She smiled. Rarely did Taren use her shortened name. "May I touch my clan-brother?"
He spread his arms wide. "If you so desire."
She reached out and stroked one of his wings. Beneath her fingers she felt his heat, his shivering. The fur on his wings was like the most expensive velvet, mottled with his colors--cinnamon streaked with black. She swept her fingers back and forth, marveling at the texture.
Taren shuddered and swore.
John laughed. "Still say no, brother-mine?"
Sam's caresses deepened and Taren leaned into her touch.
"We never allow strangers to touch our wings," Taren said. "Generations ago, we were hunted for our wings, to have them fashioned into garments and expensive trinkets. To lose our wings is to lose our honor, our life." He smiled. "You have a gentle touch. It pleases me."
"Come here, Sammi," John whispered. She turned and saw him lying spread eagled on the bed, his cock rigid. His smile was pure predatory male. Her throat constricted as her inner muscles cramped with desire. John ran a hand down his body., skimming low across his stomach, down his left thigh. "Let me soothe you, kitten-mine."
Sam edged closer, crawled across the bed and lay face first over his body. She pressed her mouth into the groove of his neck and lapped, then bit. Laughing, he lifted off the mattress.
The bed dipped again and Sam swallowed nervously as she felt Taren's weight carefully settle over her, his body wedged between her spread thighs. His breath tickled her nape and he bit gently, then sucked.
Sam moved her head and captured John's mouth with her own. His tongue probed and she answered with her own lap.
"Ahh..."
"When I kissed you, clan-brother-mine, you didn't say that for me," Taren said. "You told me to fuck off." His laughter vibrated through Sam's body. "Lucky for you, I did not listen." His tongue tip swirled over Sam's neck, as his fingers sought the softness of her folds.
Sam shivered. "Ahh," she whispered.
"You like this, kitten-sister? Some more, then." Taren's fingers stroked. His touch was firmer than John's. Kuno tended to tease, building up the pleasure with the pressure; Taren was full-on at the outset. Or, perhaps he was too wired to take time with preliminaries. Straight to the heart; her heart. He was an assassin in every sense of the word.
John ran his fingers through Sam's hair and then moved slightly, angling, and Sam saw him stroke Taren's hair, the tips of his wings.
"Ahh," Taren groaned.
She felt John move and one of his legs flung over the back of Taren's thighs, his heel resting against the back of her knee, holding them both close. John kissed her again and Taren pressed his lips to her cheek, the two men fondling and kissing, breathing cat pheromones over her. Her blood thudded against her temples.
John's hand eased beneath her to rest at her juncture. He ran a nail over her clit while one of Taren's fingers delved into her. They worked together to bring her to arousal. She shuddered and quelled the storm, holding it inside, waiting for them to join her.
)
