Anita Blake (
anita_blake) wrote2009-09-27 11:49 am
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Incubus Dreams - October 22nd
Anita is sitting on the bed, legs folded indian-style, and she stares at the pair sitting on the couch. Both Asher and Jean-Claude look utterly at ease, faces blank, bodies relaxed. If she didn't know them better, she'd say they were casually waiting to have an everyday discussion about the weather.
But their careful expressions and relaxed positions speak volumes for their worry and discomfort.
"You can both stop looking like I'm about to execute one of you," she says, trying for a smile. "I promise, it's not that bad."
But their careful expressions and relaxed positions speak volumes for their worry and discomfort.
"You can both stop looking like I'm about to execute one of you," she says, trying for a smile. "I promise, it's not that bad."
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He moans louder, writhing on the bed.
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This feels good, and Anita allows the three of them to savor it.
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"You're so beautiful," she whispers, her fingers ghosting over Asher's lips. "I want you to feed from me while I go down on Jean-Claude."
It takes quite a lot for her to ask for that.
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Aloud, though, he speaks to Asher. "Perhaps with a trifle more restraint than last time, mon ami?" he says with amusement tinting his voice. "We want the evening to last, do we not?"
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"I shall be the very model of restraint," he murmurs, turning his gaze on Anita, hungry in more ways than one.
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You're loving this, aren't you? she asks him as she strokes, nipping Jean-Claude's lower lip.
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"Umm," she says, laughing softly, though it turns into a groan. "I'm not sure how we're going to do this."
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"Lay on your side," he tells her, "and let Asher lay on his side behind you and support your head."
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He rolls her, not fully, just enough to make his bite pleasureable, his eyelids fluttering, slipping closed as her blood wets his throat, energising him, making his skin tingle.
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To thrust into her mouth as Asher draws on her throat.
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A trickle of blood escapes Asher's lips and begins to move down Anita's collarbone. Jean-Claude slides a finger across the errant droplet and brings it to his mouth, shivering as the taste of her tingles across his tongue.
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"You taste wonderful," he murmurs, running his hand down Anita's side.
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"You both feel fucking fantastic," she slurrs, a little giggle leaving her bloody throat.
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"An excellent idea," he murmurs, smirking at Jean-Claude. "Merci, mon ami."
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"You want me to ride you?" she purrs, smirking at him.
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