Chapter Eleven #5
One thing was certain—Gwynira’s court was no longer looking at them.
That suited Einar perfectly. As Aleksi kissed Naia’s temple, Einar gave in to the temptation he’d been resisting all evening and traced his fingers along the neckline of her dress.
And the musicians seemed to have caught the mood, because the song changed again, melting into one familiar to all three of them.
They had heard it not so many days ago on the beach, as they’d joined the villagers at a festival meant to celebrate the ancient love between the storm god and the goddess.
Slow, grinding, every drumbeat an invitation to slide deeper—into joy, into lust .
. . into the lover who had claimed you, even if just for a night.
Einar wanted to slide so deep that he never came back up for air.
With shadows shrouding the room, Einar slid his fingers under the neckline of Naia’s dress and down, stroking the curve of her breast. She gasped, arching, which only drove her hips against Aleksi.
Aleksi’s fingers tightened on the back of Einar’s neck, and they didn’t need words. Not in this moment.
All the better. They both had things they’d rather be doing with their mouths.
Einar pressed his parted lips to Naia’s right temple, as Aleksi’s teeth found her left ear. Her soft gasp turned into an incoherent whisper as Einar teased his fingers lower, circling her nipple without touching it.
She arched, seeking more, but he skated his fingers away. “Not yet,” he murmured against her cheek. “Don’t be impatient.”
Her soft moan of protest melted into a lyrical jumble of sounds that he belatedly realized must be that ancient language. Of course, he didn’t need to understand the words to understand the meaning. She wanted more.
Chuckling lowly, he nipped at her jaw and drew his hand free of her gown. “Soon,” he promised, his hand finding Aleksi’s as they both stroked down her side. The Lover hummed in agreement as he turned her in their arms, until her back rested against Aleksi’s chest.
Her gaze found Einar’s face, and his heart kicked at the feverish yearning there, as if she wanted to memorize his face and see it every time she closed her eyes.
“There it is,” Aleksi murmured. “She’s been gazing at you like this all night, Einar. Your goddess.”
Naia lifted a trembling hand to his face. Her fingertips traced his cheek, his nose, his lips. She stared at him as if she had never seen anything so beautiful. As if he was everything she could possibly want.
As if he was enough.
Nothing could have stopped him from kissing her.
He bent down, groaning when he found her lips parted and eager.
She tasted like sweet wine and tealberries and joy, and he couldn’t get enough.
His hand found Aleksi’s shoulder, gripping it as if to anchor them as he sank into her, licking deeper, swallowing her eager noises.
More. He needed more, but not here.
As if Aleksi had heard the thought, he covered Einar’s hand and squeezed.
And then they were moving, somehow still swaying with the music but drifting across the room with purpose.
Einar realized the destination a moment later and changed his tactics.
Instead of pushing into Naia, he began to drift backward.
Her hands found his coat immediately, tangling in it as she reached for him again. Her lips reclaimed his, teeth sinking into his lower lip as punishment for denying her. The sweet pain of it only made it more pressing to lure her toward Aleksi’s goal, one slow step at a time.
When Einar felt the door to the balcony against his back, he lifted his head and grinned down at Naia as he pushed it open. He lifted one eyebrow in silent invitation, but she was already moving with him, out into the sheltered darkness of the night.
The balcony was empty, thankfully. It also sported several conveniently massive columns with secluded little niches perfect for hiding from the world.
Einar guided Aleksi into one, until the Lover’s back hit the railing that overlooked the ocean.
Then he leaned down to brush a kiss to Naia’s ear. “Do you want to touch him?”
“Taru.” Her answer came in that musical language again, but this word, he knew.
Yes.
Aleksi watched with smoldering patience as Einar coaxed Naia to her knees and then knelt behind her, bracketing her body. He reached past her to brush one of the buttons on Aleksi’s pants. “Do you want us to touch you?”
The Lover reached back to wrap his hands around the stone railing until his knuckles turned white. But his voice remained gentle. “At this moment, I cannot remember ever wanting anything else.”
Neither could Einar. He eased the first button free of the fabric, then had to catch Naia’s eager hands as she reached up to help.
“Patience,” he chided. She moaned in protest, but he kept her hands trapped as he flicked open the next button.
How thoughtful of Aleksi to wear the attire he usually wore at his own villa.
It might not be as climate appropriate, but it was certainly easier to get into.
Two more quick flicks of Einar’s wrist, and the pants were open.
Aleksi released the railing long enough to brush a strand of Naia’s hair back from her face. “Is he going to torment us both, little nymph?”
“Maybe just a little,” she allowed. “But what comes after will be beautiful.”
Einar laughed low against her ear as he freed Aleksi’s cock and stroked it, earning a shuddering sigh. “What if I have no intention of tormenting you both?” he rasped, freeing Naia’s hand. “What if I want you to help me torment him?”
Naia twisted to look back at him with a depth of familiarity and fondness that heated his blood. “With you? Both things can be true, casara.”
He didn’t understand the word, but the affection was clear enough. He kissed her softly before turning her face back to Aleksi. “Taste him, love.”
For all her talk about Einar’s teasing, Naia seemed determined to torment Aleksi.
Her lips parted as she leaned in, but instead of taking him into her mouth, she brushed a barely there kiss to the head.
Aleksi’s chest heaved, and she smiled and did it again.
And again. Tiny little kisses, and then quick darting strokes of her tongue, humming in appreciation as she tasted him but never gave him more than those fleeting caresses.
Einar dragged his attention from the site of her tongue to find Aleksi clinging to the railing with a strength that would likely crumble the stone if this went on much longer.
His entire body was coiled as tightly as a spring, pleasure as evident in his sharp breaths as in the way his cock moved in Einar’s grip.
But there was no impatience in the Lover’s gaze. No frustration. If this tormenting dance gave Naia pleasure, he would endure it until the castle crumbled into the sea.
Not that he’d have to. The ballads had called Einar many things over the years. They had never called him patient.
Dropping his gaze again, he watched as his fingers stroked up Aleksi’s shaft.
Watched Naia’s sweet little tongue sweep out, dancing across his fingertips before returning to lick Aleksi again.
His own cock strained against his pants, and it was far too easy to imagine her tongue stroking him, the wet heat of it intoxicating.
Her loose hair cascaded around her shoulders.
Einar slid his free hand into it, wrapping the strands around his fist until she made a soft noise.
“That’s it,” he whispered, holding Aleksi’s cock so that only the tip was within her reach.
He guided her head forward, and she parted her lips eagerly, sliding them around the sensitive head until they met Einar’s hand.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slid his hand down, letting Naia’s lips slide with them.
Aleksi’s head fell back with a groan. The railing groaned, too, his grip so punishing that tiny cracks appeared in the stone. As if spurred on by his obvious pleasure, Naia drew her head back and sank down again, fighting against Einar’s grip in her hair when he tried to slow her.
So eager. He let her take more, transfixed by the erotic sight of her lips stretched wide around Aleksi’s cock. “She’s so hungry for you,” he rasped, watching her struggle to take more. “She’d take all of you if I let her.”
Naia moaned helplessly, kicking pleasure up his spine. No, something more. A bliss that slid along his skin and yet didn’t feel like his own. Aleksi drew in a sharp breath as if he felt it, too, but another sound rose, drowning out the Lover’s panting breaths and Naia’s eager little whimpers.
The waves, crashing against the cliffs below.
Einar reached out instinctively, and the pleasure slid over him again—Naia’s pleasure.
Her power, that song that wound beneath the waves when she touched them, but fuller somehow, deeper.
Glorious, as if the island welcomed her pleasure—and welcomed those who stirred it in her.
With that heat throbbing through his veins, his patience snapped.
He tugged at Naia’s hair, guiding her back, and her noise of protest turned to one of approval as he took her place, wrapping his lips around the head of Aleksi’s cock.
No sweet teasing for him, either. He let that silk-covered steel fill his mouth, reveling in the taste of Aleksi and the hint of Naia left behind.
Aleksi’s hand fell to Einar’s head, and if there was one thing that could stroke a man’s ego, it was making the god of love and desire make noises like that as his fingers clutched helplessly at his hair.
“Always so eager.” Naia’s breath feathered over Einar’s ear as she stroked his back. “So ready to swallow your lover’s pleasure.”