Varian Krylov (37 page)

“Can't you just be with me . . . however you want?” he asked gently, almost timidly.

“I don't know. I don't know if you'll . . .”

“Vanka. We'll go as slow as you need. However you want.”

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“You said that before.”

“I'm sorry I got angry before, that night with Khalid. It was only because I was scared you were using Khalid to push me away. It wasn't fair of me, thinking that about you. I won't make the same mistake, if you give me another chance.”

She nodded, feeling some significant thread was slipping through her grasp.

“I'm scared,” she heard herself confess.

“I know.” Galen smiled, stroked her hair, pulled her gently to him.

“Yeah, but you don't know why.” She slipped out of his embrace, locked eyes with him, touched his face. “Sure, it's hard, the idea of letting you see what my body is like now. But I know you. You'll find the beauty in that. A way to love my scars, because they're part of me.

“The thing I'm scared of, Galen. That night you and I met. You figured it out. The thing I needed that night, all those nights we had together before my operation. I needed to be afraid of something other than the cancer.”

“I know.”

“Everything that was going on then, god, the whole time you've known me, I've been small. Weak. Afraid. And you were dangerous. That's what I needed, then. But Galen, that's not what I'm like. All the time we've been together, you've only known me weak and scared and needy. You've never seen me. The real me.”

“Vanka,” Galen laughed softly, but his look, his voice was tender. “I've seen you. I know you. You think I fell in love with this wounded girl who needed rescuing? Hmmm?

You think to me you're the hurt girl? The sick girl?

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“Vanka, you're the woman who saved my dumb ass out the rain. The woman who picked up my six-hundred-pound motorcycle and walked it almost half a mile and hardly got winded. You're the person who stood in my kitchen digging asphalt out of my knee with a pair of tweezers. And all that a few hours after you'd had a tumor cut out of your breast.

“You're the woman who could be making a cushy living working in Hollywood, but who'd rather make art that shows people things they've never seen before. Gorgeous films that reveal things about the world.

“You're the woman who can make anyone I know shut up and listen, on a dime, with one soft word.

“God, Vanka, I didn't fall in love with you because you're weak. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known.” His tender voice went teasing as he went on, “And I know you've been taking it easy on me, and I've been looking forward to finally meeting Ivan the Terrible.”

* * * *

Above the bed, the manacles dangled from their ceiling bolt.

Relief mingled with his visceral response. Khalid was relenting. The test was over. They'd be okay.

“Do you need to use the toilet first?” Vanka's voice.

Galen's breath caught in his throat. He turned around. Leaning against the wall, Vanka was watching, grinning. A snug red tank and filmy red boyshorts set off the lustrous paleness of her body, the greenness of her eyes.

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The manacles. It was her. Galen could hardly speak.

“No.”

“Get undressed.”

There it was. That soft voice that demanded obedience. While she watched, Galen stripped. When she saw that he was hard she smiled and raised an eyebrow, and fuck if he didn't blush.

“Get on the bed,” she said, her voice low and smooth.

He knelt at the foot of the bed, under the dangling restraints. When she came forward, right to the edge of the bed, their faces an inch apart, he caught his breath and waited for her kiss. But she took his hand, instead, drew it up and locked it into the first cuff. The cold metal sent a shiver down his arm, and he felt his nipples stiffen. When she'd locked his second wrist overhead, he wrapped his fingers around the silky thickness of the rope. She'd left enough length that his arms, his torso were not pulled taut. Just restrained.

Now she smiled. A big, eager smile. God, he hadn't seen her smile like that since

. . . before. Now she was waiting. Vanka was so close, her mouth so close. Finally, their eyes locked, he felt the touch of her soft lips. A gentle first kiss. Her pale lids lowered, her lashes touched her cheek, and she kissed again, soft, deep.

A big feeling surged through his chest. Vanka. Close. Against him. Her soft, wet kiss taking him in.

Her taste. Her way of touching his tongue with hers. Her smell, the press of her warm body, her soft skin against his. God, he'd missed her. This.

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On and on. His body hard with desperate want, but the kiss—their coming together in that deep, wet touch—was everything. But her tongue slipped away. The press of her full soft lips lightened, then left him. Her green eyes were pink, tear-veiled.

But she gave him that big, eager smile again. Then a teasing arch of her eyebrow.

Vanka pivoted around and strode off, toward the dresser. In back, her red panties were so sheer he saw the shaded valley of the cleft of her ass between her firm, pale cheeks, and heat surged through his cock. From the top drawer she extracted a length of black cloth. When she turned to face him again, as she came back to him, the sheer red fabric tugged his gaze down to her crotch, and another hot surge pulsed through his cock at the sight of her pale cunt, the delicate parting of her lips.

Again she arched her brow. Then everything went black as she stretched the strip of black cloth across his eyes and tied it. And she'd gone quiet. Darkness. Silence.

His arms pulled up, his body seemed to be hovering in space. Only the scent of her kept him grounded. Adrenaline, something had him shaking. His body, his muscles felt weak.

Her mouth. Warm, soft lips touched his. Her kiss opened his mouth, her tongue stroked in, brushed over his tongue. He went into Vanka's wet heat and she sucked at his tongue, his lips.

Then she was gone. He was alone, suspended in the silent dark.

A sound just above silence. Not even a tread or the rustle of clothes. Just . . .

motion. And then that faint musk he knew so well. Heat. A soft warm touch at the small of his back.

A kiss. Khalid's mouth. Khalid's taste. That ardent tongue taking him. Galen groaned and strained into that hot kiss, his lover's urgent mouth. Khalid's fingers 355

combed into Galen's hair, taking possession as he went on with that delicious, devouring kiss.

A flash of pleasure flamed through him as a wet heat enveloped his cock.

Shuddering, groaning and straining into that kiss, Galen sought Khalid's mouth more urgently. Vanka. Khalid. Both of them kissing, their scents mingling, their hands caressing his trembling body. Her mouth nursing at his cock. Her hands stroking over his thighs, her soft caress gliding inward and up, her warm hand cupping, cradling, teasing his balls as she licked and sucked and oh god fuck too much but she backed off. Left him panting, left his throbbing cock to the cool air.

Her mouth came back to him as Khalid bit his lip, then came around to his neck, his ear, Khalid's tongue tracing and teasing, teeth love biting. Fingers caught and pinched his nipples. Khalid, how he tugged and twisted. Then Vanka's warm, soft palm slid up, over his belly, rubbing and worrying his other hardening nipple.

She was sliding up, Khalid slipping down, her tongue finding Galen's hard nipple, Khalid's hot wet mouth sinking down on Galen's cock, making him twitch, buck, gasp.

And as Khalid tongued and sucked his cock, Vanka came back to him, nuzzling into his neck, her soft lips playing over his brow, his cheeks, his ear, his lips.

When her arms went around him, pulling him into her soft, smooth warmth, and she drew him into her kiss, Galen was all bound up in them, Vanka and Khalid, his loves, their mouths, their warmth, their tender touches. He was weak, he'd surrendered, and was safe, held up, held close, kept warm as their kisses drained him. His pleasure tore through him; Galen's body convulsed, wrung itself out, then collapsed.

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Cradled between them, wrapped up in their warmth and strength, he sank down, down until he was nestled on the bed, still wound up in the darkness of the blindfold, not remembering the restraints being undone. They held him, Kissed and caressed him.

Galen touched the blindfold. “I want to see you.” Both of them, he meant.

Vanka's soft voice. “You can take it off when we're done playing.”

Galen put his hand down.

“You don't want it off?” she asked.

“No.”

They went on kissing and petting him, guiding his hand back to his side whenever he tried to touch them back, not letting him kiss, keeping him passive.

Frustrating. Vanka's smooth, soft skin, Khalid's lean heat would feel so good to touch.

To taste. But, giving in, no thought, no effort, everything was pleasure.

Under their kisses and caresses, his revived want already had him hard again.

While Khalid went on holding and rousing him, Vanka slipped away. When he felt her beside him again, she raised his knee; then there was something cool and smooth snaking around his thigh. As she buckled the leather strap a hot thrill surged through him. She fastened the second strap around his other thigh, and coaxed him up onto his knees. Khalid took one wrist, fastening the restraint while Vanka did the other wrist. In near unison they latched his wrists to the leather straps at his thighs.

She was gone. Khalid was there, that touch of his skimming along his neck, over his shoulder, down his arm, rousing his nerves. Behind him, Galen could hear a faint whiff. Vanka undressing. A hot bolt fired through his groin. And Khalid's breath warm against his lips. Then his kiss. Fuck yes, that kiss. Galen went for it with everything, his 357

fear washed away by her presence. This wasn't him and Khalid. It was the three of them.

Vanka too, now. Her hands on him, her breath in his hair, her scent. Khalid stopped their kiss. When Vanka pressed her bare body to him, Galen's breath caught.

Feeling her, finally. Her hot skin pressed to him. Her chest, her firm, muscled frame, no soft breasts flattening against his back. The softness of her belly. And—God.

“You feel me, Galen?” she breathed.

“Yes.”

“Do you want this, Galen?”

“Yes.”

Fuck yes. Behind his shock came a stab of want.

Her arms wrapped around him, her touch slid over his belly, over his nipples.

Khalid's kiss came and he opened to it, hungrier than ever.

“I'll come, Galen, just doing this,” she said, and he felt the cool hard smoothness slip up, then down the cleft of his ass. “But if you want me to, I'll fuck you.”

Oh god. “I want you to,” he panted when Khalid let him free of his devouring kiss.

The dark excited him, but he wanted to see them, too. Their eyes. How they were looking at him. How they were looking at each other. But the dark was like a spell. A good spell.

This time when Khalid kissed, it was tender. Slow and soft. Khalid's hands cradled his face as they kissed, as Vanka teased and rubbed and opened him with a slender finger. Two fingers. Then that thick, smooth hardness. Galen groaned into Khalid's gentle kiss as Vanka filled him.

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The three of them. Like this. He'd never imagined.

Vanka in his ass. Khalid in his mouth. Their heat all over him. Vanka teasing his nipples, Khalid holding him close. Her lips and tongue at the nape of his neck, on his ear, sending shivers down his back.

He loved the restraint but wanted to touch back. Loved the sound of Vanka's little groans as she fucked him, and wanted to make Khalid groan, too. Wanted to make him shiver and cry out and melt down.

“Khalid,” he breathed, his heart pounding. “I want . . .”

“What do you want, Galen?” Khalid's lips brushed over Galen's cheek as he spoke.

He couldn't say it. “Back up.”

Khalid's touch, his mouth, his body moved off, and Galen folded forward, straining against the restraints to keep his balance, kissed Khalid's mouth, licked and nipped his neck, and sank down into his lap. Behind him, Vanka shifted, then started fucking him again, her strokes slow, deep, rhythmic.

Even before he tasted Khalid's cock, the smell of him, the silky warmth of his cock brushing against his lips shook Galen. Fuck, he wanted. He parted his lips, brushed them over the swollen dome of Khalid's rigid prick. He licked. Tasted. Took in the sound of Khalid's sigh. A first. He'd never done this, without being made to. No matter how much, how often he'd wanted it.

Galen sank down on Khalid's cock. His mouth full. His ass stretched and filled. A strain. A comfort.

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Vanka's caress teased over his back, and Khalid was combing his fingers into Galen's hair, petting him as he sucked and licked. Above him they were kissing. All connected. Together.

When Vanka reached down and ran a light touch along his erection, Galen writhed and sighed around Khalid's cock. Their sighs and moans muffled in their kisses.

The smell of them. Khalid's loving caress tangling in his hair, stroking his cheek, his neck. Vanka's touch swirling over him, his cock hard and aching and twitching to go off again.

There. God. Vanka's urgent little whimpers. Her grip dug into his shoulder as she pumped into him in tiny, desperate thrusts then still, almost, just rocking against him as she let out a long, low cry.

Forgetting his restraints he tried to reach back, hold her to him, keep her inside of him. Khalid's caressing fingers gripped his hair, forced his mouth back down on his cock.

“He does not wish for you to stop, Vanka.”

Thank god.

“No?” she teased, her voice thick after her climax. “You like this?” She was fucking him again, slow and deep. “My cock in your ass, Khalid's cock in your mouth.”

Fucking hell. Vanka. Much more of that and he'd. . . . And Khalid, too, clutching his hair, flexing into his mouth, panting and twitching. The hot spurt. That sweet, needful, surrendering groan like a sob. His dear Khalid, giving up to him.