Mating Rituals [Impulse 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (11 page)

“Sit back down,” he said curtly.

Tyrone tried not to show how much he enjoyed the sight of her nakedness. Not that it would be too hard for her to figure it out. She only had to glance at the bulge in his pants for the evidence to be…well, self-evident. He hadn’t intended to get into this with her, but seeing her so upset, so insecure about herself, changed something deep inside him. She was destined to be their mate, even if she didn’t know it herself yet, and it was his duty to look out for her welfare, both physical and psychological.

“We’re going to play a game, Aisha, but I set the rules,” he said. “This game will teach you things about yourself that you never even suspected.”

“All right.” She glanced up at him, bit her lower lip again, and her face flushed. This time Tyrone was pretty sure she was excited rather than upset.

“Open your legs wide, bring your feet up onto the settee, and close your eyes.”

When she did as he asked, Tyrone began to wonder about the wisdom of his actions. The sight of the cute pink lips to her sweet pussy sucked the breath from his lungs, much as Impulse’s thin air had done to Aisha earlier. How someone with such a gorgeous body could have such low self-esteem was beyond Tyrone. Still, it didn’t really matter, because, unless he’d lost his touch, all of that was about to change.

“Relax, darling,” Tyrone said in a soft, hypnotic voice. “Imagine a cool mountain stream. You’re sitting on its bank, dangling your feet in the water, turning your face up to the sun.”

Kane noticed her toes wiggle, her head tilt back, and a sultry smile play about her lips.

“Breathe deeply. Fill your lungs with that sweet mountain air.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Let your mind wander and your body drift. You’re tired. Close your eyes and let the sun seep into your body. You’ve been working way too hard. It’s time to relax.”

She mumbled something incoherent, let out a prolonged sigh, and closed her eyes more tightly.

“That’s it. It’s so warm that you can’t stand the feel of your clothes. You’ve taken them off and are sitting there naked. No one ever comes up here, you’re quite safe. You fall asleep in the sun, more relaxed than you’ve been for weeks, but something wakes you up. Something or someone is touching your tits. Can you feel it, Aisha?” She nods but doesn’t open her eyes. “It could be a butterfly, a feather, or something otherworldly. Whatever it is, it feels wonderful. Your nipples harden.”

“Hmm,” she said when Tyrone moved forward with feline stealth and breathed over one of her nipples. He noticed that it hardened immediately and that the aureole pebbled a deep, enticing pink. One of her hands drifted to that breast and tweaked the nipple.

“But you don’t like your breasts. No one would want to play with that nipple.”

Her hand fell away immediately, but she moaned in protest.

“Why don’t you like your breasts?”

“Too big.”

“But you liked what the butterfly did to your nipple.”

“Yes.”

“He won’t come back if you don’t like your breasts. Butterflies don’t enjoy conflict.”

“But I want to feel—”

“Think about your breasts, Aisha. Think about the way they look beneath a blouse. Think about how men look at them. Think about how they’d look on Angie.”

“Oh!”

“
Oh
is right. Angie’s tits are plastic. A man can always tell, just by looking.”

Aisha smiled. “Can they?”

“No man wants to play with a plastic toy when he can have firm, supple flesh to fill his hands.”

“No?”

“No. Trust me on this. The butterfly’s hovering over your nipple again.” Tyrone expelled another cool breath over her tit. “Can you feel the beat of his wings?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want him to land?”

She let out a needy little moan. “Yes! Please, yes!”

“What do you think of your tits now?”

“They’re real. They’re mine. I…I love them.”

Her hand wandered to her solid nipple and Tyrone could see she was pinching it really hard. God, but she was a natural candidate for nipple clamps!

“You’re really turned on,” Tyrone said, wondering if he was speaking for her or himself. “Liquid’s seeping from your pussy. Perhaps the butterfly will land on your clit. It’s throbbing and swollen and badly needs to be touched.”

“How did you know?” she asked in a faraway voice.

“The butterfly’s hovering, trying to decide. It’s fluttering up your legs, trying to figure out if you’re worthy.”

The hand not touching her tit came to rest on her calf. It ran up and down it, as though she’d never touched her own leg before. She straightened that leg, lifted it experimentally in the air, and ran her hand all the way to her pussy and back.

“I want the butterfly to land on my cunt,” she said in a hoarse voice.

“We haven’t gotten past your legs yet, babe. Why don’t you like them?”

“They’re not as long as Angie’s.”

“You have real hang-ups over Angie, and that’s plain dumb. She’s tall but way too skinny. Her legs have no shape, not like yours do.”

A somnolent smile lit up her face. “That’s true, I guess.”

“The butterfly likes it that you’re relaxing. It’s come in to land on your pussy, darlin’. Are you ready for it?”

“Hell yes!”

“Its touch is so gentle you can barely feel it.”

Her hand moved from her thigh to her clit and she moaned.

“The butterfly’s flapping its wings, agitating your scorching pussy.”

Her fingers probed and a gurgle—a cross between a pant and a sigh—erupted in her throat.

“Where do you feel your energy’s the strongest?” Tyrone asked.

“My whole body’s buzzing. I feel like I could actually fly right now.”

“That’s good. Now squeeze your pelvic muscles for me, sweetheart. Hold all that energy inside you. That’s a good girl. The butterfly’s landed right on your clit. Do you feel its gentle touch?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what it’s like.”

“It’s like I’m on fire.” Her breathing became more rapid as the pressure of her fingers increased. “It feels as though I’m on the outside watching all this happening to someone else.”

“What does that other person look like?”

“Sexy, wanton, unafraid to go after what she wants. All the things I’m not.”

“But she is you, darlin’. Don’t you recognize those freckles across your own nose?”

“No, I…yes…hell, I don’t know! Help me, please!”

She was on the point of orgasm, but Tyrone wasn’t ready to let her come yet.

“The butterfly’s taken off and left you.”

“No!” She groaned long and loud. “Please, Tyrone, make it come back. I need the butterfly. I need the heat, the tingling. I need—”

“Hmm, I know you do. But not quite yet.”

She was alternately panting and begging, tears of frustration seeping from the corners of her closed eyes. Goose bumps had appeared on her dewy skin and she was trembling all over. Never before had Tyrone tried edging with a more responsive student. But they’d barely scratched the surface of her sensuality and Tyrone needed to teach her a little bit more about herself before he let her come.

“The butterfly’s squeezed beneath your cunt. It’s touching your perineum.” Her fingers slid beneath her butt. “That soft, spongy area between your anus and cunt is part of the clit network, did you know that?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Ah, not many people do. That’s why it gets neglected, but it’s actually a highly erogenous zone.” She squealed as her fingers explored. “The butterfly knows that even if you don’t.”

Tyrone wanted to take his own clothes off and join in the fun. Problem was, she was so tempting that he didn’t trust himself not to fuck her senseless and prove to her with deeds rather than words just how appealing she actually was. He contented himself with touching his rigid shaft through the fabric of his shorts while he continued to torment Aisha. Kane would just have to fuck him later and get rid of the abiding itch he’d been fighting against ever since he’d started this game with Aisha.

“I need…please, I want—”

“Only beautiful people get what they want.” Tyrone smiled at the ease with which he could sway her. “Are you beautiful, Aisha?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love your body?”

“Yes, I love everything about me.”

“That pleases the butterfly. He’s back on your cunt. Slip some fingers inside yourself, darlin’. The butterfly’s landed hard on your clit, but he needs some help.”

“Hmmm.”

Her fingers worked frantically. Her head rotated from side to side, and her hair fell all over the place, obscuring Tyrone’s view of her features as he allowed her to get closer to orgasm. He heard Kane come in behind him but didn’t turn around.

“Our mate has self-esteem issues,”
he pheromoned.

“You seem to be taking care of them.”

“That’s the idea.”

Kane stepped forward and glanced at Tyrone’s erection.
“Looks like you might need some help with that thing later.”

“Crossed my mind.”

Kane leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched Tyrone finish what he’d started, marking Aisha with his unique orgasmic fingerprint without actually touching her.

“The butterfly’s grazing your vulva with its wings. You feel that, Aisha?”

“Yes.” She panted the response as her fingers increased their pressure.

“Uh-oh, the butterfly’s gone again.”

“No! No, please, I’m begging you. Get it back.”

“No, my mistake, it’s landed back on your tits.”

“Ah!” Her hand closed around one nipple and squeezed hard.

“Its friend’s turned up and landed on your cunt. Shoo it away, Aisha. You don’t need it.”

“I do! I so need it. Please, let it stay.”

Tyrone shared a glance with Kane, who was now also rock hard.

“See what it wants then.”

Her fingers were on her sweet spot in a millisecond. “It wants me to come.”

“No, that can’t be right. Not if you don’t like your body.”

“I do!” Her voice was an anguished moan. “I love my body. My body is a temple.”

“Yeah, it is.” Tyrone felt euphoric. “Both butterflies are on your cunt now, Aisha.”

Her fingers went to work and both men saw her muscles tense. Her mouth opened in a startled “oh,” but no sound emerged. Then all four fingers of one hand disappeared inside her pussy as her thumb worked her clit. She screamed as her orgasm hit and she rode her fingers like a woman with something to prove to herself. On and on it went, and Tyrone knew it would be more intense, more satisfying than anything she’d known before, mainly because he’d made her wait so long to achieve it.

Eventually her body stopped spasming, and she opened her eyes and blinked at Tyrone and Kane in obvious confusion.

“What just happened to me?” she asked.

Aisha woke up and stretched, feeling refreshed and full of vigor. Just for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was or what had changed to make her feel so totally enlightened. Being relaxed wasn’t something she’d known too much about in her aggressively competitive, highly stressful career choice.

Then it all came back to her in a jumble of erotic recollections. Tyrone coaxing her into the most cataclysmic orgasm she’d ever experienced without laying so much as one finger on her. His authoritative, deep voice had a hypnotic effect, compelling her to follow wherever it led. Almost like an out-of-body experience, she’d ceded control of her mind to him, simply because she so badly wanted to please him. She recalled just how desperately she’d needed to come. Time and again he’d forbidden it and she hadn’t found the will to argue. That, she realized now, was what had made the entire episode so deeply sensual.

When Kane had walked in on them, the admiration she saw in his eyes as she gave free vent to her feelings added to her liberation. Slivers of liquid excitement coursed through her bloodstream as she recalled the episode. Aisha rubbed her thighs together, close to orgasm again just through thinking about it. The fire burning inside her abruptly died when she remembered that she’d have to face the guys again shortly. She examined her feelings and discovered to her astonishment that embarrassment had taken a vacation. The guys hadn’t made a big deal out of it, so why should she? She’d simply pretend that it hadn’t happened and let them raise the subject if they felt the need.

The three of them had taken lunch together after her performance. They chatted about her research, asked her questions about her work, but didn’t mention the exhibition she’d just made of herself. It was as though they understood her better than she understood herself—even if they didn’t want to actually fuck her and couldn’t offer an explanation for their reluctance to. It didn’t matter. She got the message. Presumably there were significant others in their lives and they were being faithful, after a fashion, by not going the whole way with her. Fine, she could live with that. Besides, she wasn’t the one who’d started these sex games, nor did she have a partner anymore. She was a free agent and had nothing to feel guilty about.