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Iksander was unaccustomed to being treated as if he weren’t the most important male in the room. Georgie and Connor had no particular awe of him—a circumstance he should have expected, given that they weren’t djinn or his subjects. Though their independence was unfamiliar, he couldn’t swear he hated it. They owed him nothing—not gratitude or subservience.
If they wanted him, they wanted him.
That wasn’t chopped liver, as humans said.
“You heard the lady,” Connor said, holding out his hand to him. “Let’s leave Georgie to her primping while I make sure you don’t get bored.”
Boredom seemed unlikely, considering the chills of anticipation currently sweeping along his limbs. Iksander let go of Georgie and took the angel’s grip. Connor tugged him along with his usual boyish enthusiasm. For a second, Iksander resisted. He spoke over his shoulder.
“Pick something that makes you blush,” he advised their shared lover.
Georgie gave him a startled nod. Her agreement pleased him. Some obedience would always be welcome.
Back by his bed, he and the angel pulled off their clothes. Connor’s body was still a novelty. Though the vessel the angel inhabited was human, his skin was djinni smooth. His muscles bulged beneath it, his movements unselfconscious and graceful. When he dragged his shirt off by its back collar, his chest was drover-broad. For a moment, Iksander pictured him herding sheep down a dusty road. Connor had that look about him: a guileless peasant living simply off the land. Past experience taught him the angel wasn’t that simple.
Or that innocent, actually.
“You’re falling behind,” Connor kidded, leaning on the bed area’s balustrade to bend and remove his shoes. A tiny crease appeared on his flat stomach. “Not that helping you catch up wouldn’t interest me.”
Though he might have liked that too, Iksander shook himself and continued to undress. He toed off his slippers and slid his silk trousers down. He shouldn’t have felt as shy as he did relinquishing that final covering.
His pulse seemed to patter beneath every inch of skin.
“You’re nervous,” Connor observed and grinned. “That’s sweet.”
“We haven’t done this that many times.”
Still smiling, Connor stretched both athletic arms above his head, lengthening and loosening his muscles. His body hair was dark gold, the tufts beneath his arms somehow as erotic as the thatch between his legs. His cock was half erect and rising. Iksander couldn’t help but be fascinated by the lift and thickening of his shaft.
“Shall I try to make you more comfortable?” Connor asked.
“What?”
Connor laughed at his distraction. “Would you like my help getting past your nerves? I could spank you, perhaps. Or tie you up.”
Iksander had admitted previously to enjoying a bit of pain with his pleasure. As of yet, they hadn’t really explored this.
“You like employing bondage,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound casual.
“I like being in charge.” The angel flashed white teeth. “As you already know from spying on Georgie and me together, before we were a threesome.”
“I never spied on you! You two went at it like minks. I had no choice but to be aware of what you did.”
For whatever reason, the burst of anger caused Iksander’s penis to surge to full hardness. The thing was pounding now, high and demanding. Connor rubbed one finger across his curving mouth as his gaze slid appreciatively to it. “As I recall, you once claimed spanking was for women.”
“That wasn’t an invitation,” Iksander snapped. “Spanking isn’t a fantasy of mine.”
Connor nodded. “You like your pain a bit more forceful. A nice manly lashing or something along those lines.”
His mind returned to the image of Connor driving a flock of sheep. The sultan believed drovers used sticks for this purpose. Whippy branches possibly. With the bark peeled off.
“Well, that got a response.” Connor laughed at his involuntary shiver. “No, don’t get all poker-spined again. You know I don’t judge you.”
“Sometimes you’re a bit too humorous,” Iksander said crisply.
Connor tried unsuccessfully to wipe away his smile. “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms. “Kiss me and let me know I’m forgiven.”
It would have been bad manners to refuse. Iksander stepped to the angel and took his shoulders between his hands. The skin his thumbs caressed was hot, just beginning to perspire. Connor palmed Iksander’s hipbones and then his rear. Though their erections didn’t touch, the vibration of arousal crossed the space between them. Ready for more but not prepared to ask, Iksander wet his lips.
Connor stroked their outline with one finger. “Georgie would happily spank you, but if your heart is set on a lashing, I fear you’ll have to rely on me.”
Iksander swallowed, the moment demanding honesty. “I want everything the three of us can do together.”
The admission freed him, his hesitation falling away at last. With a delicious sense of abandon, he brought their hard male bodies into contact. He needn’t have worried whether Connor would welcome this. The angel sighed with pleasure, wrapping Iksander in his arms and meeting his open mouth. The greedy kiss fired Iksander’s nerves. Their tongues did battle, their cocks sliding side by side. Connor’s hands caressed his back with inspiring fervency. Iksander meant to match his boldness, but excitement sidetracked him. His muscles twitched, his pulse racing crazily as he accepted what Connor gave.
After wet, blistering minutes of exploration, the angel tore free to nip his shoulder.
“God,” he panted against the muscle, seeming overcome by desire.
That Iksander could do this to a celestial being made him feel like a conqueror.
Connor pulled his head back to look at him. The men were nearly the same height. Connor’s heaven blue eyes glowed like a djinni’s. Usually, his gaze peered straight into any soul. This time, Iksander thought he could read the angel’s.
“Yes,” he said, stroking the sides of his gorgeous sculpted face. “I want you as much as I want her.”
Connor’s expression turned slightly shocked.
Iksander laughed softly. “What? Didn’t you realize you cared?”
“I suppose I didn’t.” Connor’s mouth turned down. “It’s true I’ve been jealous once or twice, but I shouldn’t be competitive. That you want me at all is nice.”
“Maybe you have more ordinary being in your nature than you thought.”
“Maybe I do.” He seemed about to say more when his eyes widened at something behind Iksander. “Wow. I think you might want to turn around.”
Iksander turned and a fresh jolt of lust hit him. Georgie had returned in the outfit she’d chosen.
The garments—a long-sleeved tunic and broad-legged pants—mixed blue and silver shades. They cinched at her waist with a jeweled cummerbund. Had the fabric not been mist-thin, the ensemble would have been modest. Instead, silk flowed like water around her bare body, fluttering softly with air currents. Through this transparent shield, he could see every inch of her.
Her breasts swayed as she halted beyond arm’s reach.
Caught off guard, he struggled to swallow. Her nipples were flushed and tight, her navel enticing. Barely concealed by sheer cloth, her ruddy pubic curls stole his breath. Perhaps this should have surprised him. He’d seen such seductive wear before. Then again, he’d never seen it on her. The leafy tattoo sleeving her left arm reminded him that—however traditionally dressed she might be—she was exotic. Unable to resist, his gaze raked down her legs for good measure.
When had the shape of her toned limbs become the ultimate in sexiness to him?
“I hope you like this,” Georgie said, shyly smoothing the tunic’s knee-length front. “It’s not a dress, but I think it’s feminine. Yasmin and the others were generous. The workmanship is amazing. I swear I can’t find a stitch or seam anywhere.”
“That would be the seamstress’s magic.” Iksander’s voice came out gravelly. Evidently, he couldn’t pull off casual around either of his lovers.
“Literal magic, I guess,” she laughed.
“Yes,” was all he managed in answer.
“Well, it fits,” she said. “And I listened to your and Connor’s comment. As you can see, these swirly patterns are made of little pearls and diamonds.”
“I only noticed you.”
Her grin said his confession pleased her. “I could keep it on if you like. The trousers aren’t sewn together at the crotch.”
“I vote yes,” Connor said. “You make a scrumptious harem girl.”
Connor was joking, but what if she really were a concubine? The thought disconcerted him. Georgie came from a different culture. Harem life would stifle her. Still . . . would he mind if she were his to do with as he pleased?
For once, Connor wasn’t following his train of thought. “Iksander and I were having a debate before you came in.”
Georgie snorted. “That’s how people ‘debate’ here?”
“Before the kissing. We were discussing what would loosen him up the most: bondage, spanking, or maybe a few lashes.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Iksander said hastily. He shifted his weight, vaguely aware that—despite his uneasiness—his arousal had leaped again. “Perhaps Georgie would like the place of honor. I’m sure we men would enjoy focusing on her.”
“No, no, no,” Connor said. “You’re not squirming out of the spotlight that easy.”
“I’m hardly afraid of being in the—”
Connor’s arm struck out as swiftly as a cobra, his palm sharply stinging the sultan’s face. Utterly astonished, Iksander covered the spot and gasped. “What the hell was that?”
“Would you like another?” Connor asked pleasantly.
Georgie was by his side already. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Iksander dropped his hand from his cheek slowly. “I . . . am unharmed. Connor put more noise into that than force.”
“You aren’t bruised,” Georgie said, peering at the place. “Unless that’s because djinn heal quickly.”
“Georgie.” Connor’s scold sounded disappointed.
“I am unharmed,” Iksander repeated, still breathless. “He only struck me hard enough to sting. Hard enough to get me going.”
His voice sank an octave to tell her that. Georgie’s eyes dropped, her lips parting in surprise when she saw how brutally stiff his erection was.
“Well,” she said, short of breath now herself. She tore her gaze back to her boyfriend. “You shouldn’t have scared me like that. I don’t like the thought of you hitting him in anger.”
“I wouldn’t,” Connor said. “I only wanted him to relax.”
“You enjoyed that?” she asked Iksander, wanting to be sure.
A thrill ran through him when he saw she wasn’t necessarily calling a halt to this. “I did. It was perfect.”
She touched his face on the opposite side from where Connor had struck him. She was studying his expression, deciding inside herself. Her palm slid down the cords of his neck, over his front, and finally to his groin. Though he knew the caress was coming, he sucked in air as she stroked his cock upward. Her fingers held his thickness firmly, her pull and squeeze not at all hesitant. When she reached the tip, her thumb circled his cock’s head. The pressure she used was hard, the wetness his prick was spilling all that kept the sensitive skin from burning.
“Georgie,” he gasped, so wound up he was pounding.
“Connor’s right,” she responded. “The only solution to get you past this . . . uptightness is him taking charge of you.”
Iksander shivered. Was Connor taking charge or was she? He wasn’t sure he knew. Connor would never displease her.
“If you’d be so kind,” the angel said to her politely. “You could lead him to the bed.”
Georgie was so kind. She opened the little gate that separated the sleeping platform from the rest of the room. A gesture of her arm and a crooked smile told him to climb up.
“What’s this?” she asked, catching sight of an object on the floor. She bent—a pretty image, given her filmy garb. When she straightened, she held a padded leather cuff attached to length of chain. She smiled archly. “Is this yours, Your Majesty?”
He opened his mouth. He knew damn well he hadn’t left that there. The toys he’d collected over the years had for the most part never been removed from their box, a stash he concealed in the far back of his closet. He’d lacked the nerve to share them with his kadin. They’d seemed too boundary pushing. The only people who could have tried them out were this suite’s last inhabitants, the trio who’d kept the city safe in his absence. Clearly, they’d discovered his hiding place. Arcadius and his friends weren’t gossips, but neither did it feel appropriate to tell Georgie someone else had played here recently.
“The chain is mine,” he confessed.
Repressing the complicated flaming of his cheeks was impossible.
“There’s a cuff for the other wrist over here,” Connor said cheerfully. “And two for his ankles. They’re anchored to eyebolts on the floor.”
“Handy.” Georgie’s lavender eyes twinkled. “Why don’t you lie back and we’ll secure you?”
There was no reason to resist. He wanted what was coming, and they did too. Even so, his limbs felt strange as he assumed a spread out position. Pillows propped his back and head, his bed as comfortable as he remembered. Georgie and Connor hooked him in after some fumbling, not realizing at first that the cuffs required a spell to shut and tighten.
“You can get out if you want?” Connor asked. “Just smoke free if the urge hits you?”
He nodded, his teeth clamped against speaking. The idea of changing form in this particular context was too carnally charged for him.
Connor patted his arm reassuringly. Georgie moved to stand at the bed’s other side.
“He’s so beautiful lying there.” She glanced up at the fixture Connor had swung from earlier. “Dusk is falling. I don’t want to do this in the dark, but I think all those chandelier lights would be too bright.”
“What about this?” Connor indicated a torchère not far from them. Fat white candles sat on its silver arms, held secure by carved acanthus leaves. “Maybe Iksander could light them magically.”
“If you wish,” he said.
The angel had sufficient power to work the charm himself—more than, chances were. Possibly Connor wanted to involve the sultan in the unfolding scene, to ensure he gave consent. For his part, the sultan had no doubts about his safety . . . or the strength of his desire. He lit the wicks all at once, with a push that was as easy as exhaling.
The flames were soft, the flickering romantic.
He fought a smile. Of the pair, Connor seemed to pay more attention to such things.
“Pretty,” Georgie praised as Connor lifted one beeswax pillar free.
Maybe he’d been wrong about the angel doing this for romance. Iksander had assumed he meant to set the candle next to the bed, to bring the light closer. Instead, Connor held it in both hands, cradling it with the glow illuminating his serene face. For no reason he could pin down, the nerves of Iksander’s tailbone hummed.
“Djinn like hot things?” Connor asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed, a slight breathiness thickening his voice. “As you know, we’re created of smokeless fire.”
“I’ve heard—” The angel stopped and then continued. “Some humans like having melted wax poured on them as foreplay. The drops burn at first, but it’s supposed to be sensual. Do you think you’d enjoy it?”
A quick involuntary shudder rippled across his shoulders. Iksander gripped the chains that held him to stop it. “Yes. I expect I would.”
“You haven’t done it before?”
He shook his head.
Connor smiled—not put off by this, he guessed. “Good. I’d like to be the first.”
He clambered onto the bed, his extravagant erection lending interest to the action. “Coming?” he asked Georgie.
She was biting her lower lip. “I want to try a spell. To make sure he won’t get hurt.”
Iksander hadn’t been worried, but her concern touched him. “Do as you will, Georgie.”
She climbed up on his other side, sitting on her heels and closing her eyes to compose herself. Her lips moved, but he didn’t hear what she said. He hoped her charm wasn’t too ambitious. Sometimes Georgie’s power ran ahead of her intentions.
Her lashes lifted. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
“Are you ready?” Connor asked Iksander.
When he nodded, Connor swung over him on his knees, his gaze on Iksander as he tipped the candle. Wax had pooled clear and shining around the wick. Iksander hissed as the stream spilled over and hit him. The burn was brief—barely lasting as long as the paraffin took to harden on his sternum. His body was made to handle this treatment. More than handle it, truthfully. A moment after the pain registered, a burst of arousal replaced it.
He squirmed at the pleasurable sensations, his hips bumping the inside of Connor’s thighs.
“More?” Connor asked.
“Please,” he said huskily.
Connor flushed, the color beautiful on his sweet features. Tormenting Iksander stirred him too. He tipped the candle more carefully this time. A second line of wax crossed the first. Iksander gasped at this fresh sting and the subsequent surge of excitement. His desire felt too big to contain. He wanted to kiss the angel, wanted to tear free of his bonds and fuck him and Georgie too. Her hand had fallen to his inner forearm, her fingertips lightly petting the sensitive skin. He didn’t dare look at her. If she were as aroused as Connor, he’d never control himself.
“One more,” he grated.
Connor smiled. “I’ll make it good.”
He drew a slow figure eight around Iksander’s nipples, drip by drip, close enough to the tightened tips that the burn was the sharpest yet. Iksander cursed and writhed, his back arching off the bed, his ankles tugging and rattling their chains. The hurt-so-good agony drew his whole body in. His cock was caught at the center of the seductive net: throbbing, huge, its skin taut enough to singe him too. He growled, wanting to ravish someone that instant. The chains were all that reminded him to wait. This would be better if it lasted.
He subsided, panting, his chest pulsing beneath the wax. The pain wasn’t fading as fast this time.
“My turn,” Georgie said.
A fog of lust dulled his mental powers. He didn’t guess what she planned even when she displayed her palms to him. Tiny diamond chips of frost feathered across them.
He jerked as she pressed the coolness over his pectorals. Her skin was icy, the frost melting in the heat Connor had left behind. She was healing what he’d hurt.
The concept stunned him. Maybe she was romantic too.
“Shh,” she said at his reflexive twitch. “This is just a kiss of winter to cool the burn.”
He blinked as she leaned over him. Her weight wasn’t much, her strength no match for his. Though her magic packed a wallop—all humans’ did, potentially—she’d never use it to injure him.
Not wanting to break free was what imprisoned him.
“Kiss me,” he said hoarsely.
Her pupils reacted, swallowing more of her lavender irises. She touched one fingertip to her lower lip. The gesture wasn’t coyness. Sugary frost crept over her there as well. She bent closer, wintry vapor issuing from her mouth. She laid her lips softly over his.
Her tongue slid in as his reached out.
She moaned and he kissed her more skillfully, her coolness receding and returning as she fought to control her spell. When she was entirely warm again, his lips released her.
Her giggle was a sound he rarely heard from her.
“You do that too well,” she scolded. “I’ve lost all my frostiness.”
He couldn’t resist. She was too dewy and flushed and sweet. He smoked one hand free of its leather cuff and cupped her silk-covered breast with it. The pearls and diamonds that swirled around the fabric weren’t idle ornaments. They were precisely placed—maybe magically placed—to draw attention to her nipples.
She gasped as he circled one areola with his thumb.
Because he could, he shot a small burst of magic into her nerves.
That made the peak tighten more. She wriggled on her heels as if too stimulated to sit still. Her scent rose, tantalizing him beyond his power to control. One hand wasn’t enough to have free then. He didn’t allow himself to think better of the decision: he snapped fully into his smoke form, lost all four chains, and flipped her under him.
She inhaled louder than before. Though this wasn’t the first time she’d seen his other shape, it remained alien to her. This purely djinn body was more intimidating, larger than his physical. It had strength like wind or electric current, able to move her, touch her, or go through her as he chose. Whichever he chose, she’d feel him affecting her.
A sense of his own maleness gripped him. As he wrapped her slender forearms in smoky hands, the differences between them couldn’t have been more obvious. She was cream and roses, he a thunderous storm cloud gray. Georgie quivered but didn’t flinch. A part of him he didn’t feel ready to acknowledge thrilled at her slight tremor. Excitement pricked in a storm of static inside his cock, firing strongest at the tip. Her thighs were spread for him, lolling to either side. He wanted to take her, could have taken her . . .
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
His voice was lower in this body, a rumbling bass that pulled an added flush up her rounded breasts and into her cheekbones.
She shivered then seemed to laugh at her reaction. “My lizard brain is afraid. The rest of me is just turned on.”
He kissed her, the first kiss they’d shared like this. As he did, he dropped his hips against her, his smoke cock rubbing up and down her belly. He couldn’t tell if his size alarmed her. Mostly, he knew how good stroking her this way felt to him. She was breathing harder when he pulled back. Her eyes were wide, not frightened but startled.
“Yes,” he said. “Kissing is different in this form. It’s as if our molecules interact.”
She wet her lips. “Take me, Iksander. I want to know you this way too.”
Longing clawed at him, a beast that goaded him to give in. “You’re sure?”
“She’s sure,” Connor commented humorously.
He’d moved when Iksander wasn’t paying attention. He sat near him and Georgie now, one muscular naked leg folded casually on the bed. He laid his hand on Iksander’s shoulder. His touch felt different from Georgie’s. The angel’s spirit was inherently buzzy and powerful—contained but not diminished by his human shell. Connor hadn’t batted an eye at Iksander’s transformation. Quite possibly, his perception of the sultan was the same regardless.
“I’ll be your safety net, if you like,” he said. “Make sure you don’t accidentally hurt her in the heat of the moment.”
“You’ll protect her?”
Connor smiled at the gruff question. “Always. And you as well.”
He would protect Iksander, though his race—so tradition claimed—had betrayed Iksander’s in order to elevate humans above them.
Did Connor realize how extraordinary his promise was?
“Very well,” Iksander said, unable to voice all this. “I trust you to keep your word.”
“Good,” Georgie said. “Then we can get on with this.”
Humor gleamed in her eyes as she smoothed his hazy chest up and down. He knew he almost felt solid to her. At the moment, only his edges blurred over her fingers. The energy her stroking stirred was delectable, reaching deep and hot inside him.
She noticed the effect and laughed. “When I rub you, little lightning forks flare up.”
Her lack of fear was a gift. He growled and kissed her passionately.
Her pleasured moan gave him permission to do as he’d been craving. With a sense of victory and relief, he shoved his smoke cock into her core.
She cried out and arched up for more. Iksander’s lust exploded. He was glad then for Connor’s promise. He couldn’t have held back to save his life. He fucked her and fucked her, driving into and through her. His girth expanded, but the usual limits of size and flesh were irrelevant. Her being accepted his penetration—her soul, if he wanted to be poetic. Overwhelmed, she flung out her arms. Her head thrashed on the pillow, her thighs alternately pushing upward and dropping wide. Perspiration glittered on rosy, rolling flesh. He wished he could make a record of her this way. She was a picture of abandon, of pleasure and surrender.
Mostly, though, she was a picture of acceptance.
“Yes,” he said or maybe only thought.
“Iksander,” she groaned in answer.
She came, the squeeze of her pussy and the charge bursting through her nerves equally palpable to him.
How he held back from going with her he’d never know. He gripped her wrists and yanked them beside her head.
“Do that again,” he urged.
Perhaps he actually compelled her. Djinn could charm humans if they took them unawares. Georgie groaned and climaxed, and yet again he nearly went over. His need for release was excruciating. His smoke form began to glow with the strength of it.
“Oh God,” she gasped. Her eyes screwed shut, her features strained by desire. He knew she was going to go again.
He wanted something he’d never tried before. Always when he’d performed this act in his smoke form he’d finished the same way. Tonight he wanted her to see the man she knew. No smoke. No masks. Just him unmistakably.
“Georgie,” he said, releasing the hands he’d trapped.
Her lashes lifted, her gaze blurred by the closeness of orgasm. Despite this, she saw something in the indistinct face he wore. Her expression altered—went soft and loving and sweet and funny and everything that was her.
“Hold me,” he said even as her arms wrapped him.
Her embrace turned him solid. He didn’t have to exert effort. His cock was simply flesh again, his thighs, his shoulders, the bent and straining arms on which he propped himself.
He guessed Georgie liked this version of him as well.
“Mm,” she hummed, squirming up him invitingly.
His thrusts sped up before he could stop himself. He had to go deep. Had to pump. Had to take every inch of her tight, slick pussy. He gasped as his held-back climax suddenly barreled over him. Lightning of a different sort lashed him with fabulous sensations. He swelled and peaked and drove into her all the way, compelled to helplessly. She contracted too: arms, legs, every part of her clasping him. He came and came as if he hadn’t climaxed in years. His very spine seemed to empty out, his extremities tingling.
Georgie sagged a moment before he did.
He was trying not to collapse when she wriggled a little more.
“Nice,” she said throatily. “Very, extremely, better than average.”
She was the mistress of understatement. He laughed and eased out of her, gratified by her kitten mew of objection. “I don’t want to squash you. I’m heavy.”
“You’re perfect,” she disagreed.
“Perhaps you are learning the djinn art of flattery.”
Though she’d curled toward him sleepily on her side, he sat up. He didn’t know why he wasn’t exhausted. Their coupling had been extraordinary. He’d come like a gasket blown off a pot. His penis was limp with satisfaction, his muscles humming from their workout. He raked his slightly sweaty hair back, still unused to it being short. Georgie had snipped it to preserve his incognito during their journey through enemy lands. His once wavy mane had been a status symbol, a mark of his prominent rank. The locks would grow back, but other things might not.
He’d changed since he’d last been in his capital.
His gaze cut to Connor. The angel sat with seemingly infinite patience just where he’d been before. The sultan’s attraction to the man was another unsuspected facet of his nature. He couldn’t be sorry for it. Though he harbored some nervousness for the future, he was happier than he’d ever been.
Better, he thought. Bigger of heart and spirit. Being loved so freely by these two amazing people made him more capable of love himself.
Connor’s lips curved, the hooding of his eyes mischievous. “Feeling a need to work off more tension?”
His suggestiveness, coupled with the ghosting of his fingertips along Iksander’s inner thigh, stirred a quake of renewed interest. He met Connor’s sky blue gaze. “I’m not sure ‘tension’ is the right word. I would, perhaps, like to express a few additional emotions in a physical manner.”
“I would also find that agreeable.”
Like Georgie, the angel knew how to understate. He sucked in a breath as Iksander took his very erect shaft into his perspiring hand. Evidently, watching Georgie and Iksander had incited strong reactions.
“Just agreeable?” he teased.
“Welcome, if you prefer.” He gasped more sharply when Iksander pulled his warm grip upward.
Iksander had touched Connor like this before but couldn’t recall if he’d truly paid attention. Had he noticed how silky his cock skin was? How its core resisted pressure? How vigorous the beating within its veins? A curiosity to discover how he tasted rolled through him suddenly.
“May I take you in my mouth?” he asked.
Connor laughed. His shaft had just thickened more.
“All right,” Iksander said. “I suppose I know your answer.”
He didn’t stop to think. Shifting onto his hands and knees, he bent to Connor’s lap.
The angel groaned as if he didn’t expect Iksander’s mouth sinking down him to feel so good. That was flattering. And inspiring. Iksander’s penis jolted harder, doing its level best to resist gravity. This led to an unexpected development. A small but not entirely gentle hand wrapped and slid along his length.
Georgie hadn’t succumbed to slumber as he’d assumed. She must have decided his current activities were worth joining. From the feel of it, she’d also removed her clothes. Sheets rustled as she set her knees firmly behind him. Approval wasn’t strong enough to describe Iksander’s reaction to the improved angle this offered her. His hips rolled into her tight, slow strokes, waves of pleasure rolling up him anew. Having Connor’s erection in his mouth while her palm teased his pounding shaft made his libido go crazy. He shivered, a drop of pre-cum welling warningly from his slit.
“You’re distracting me,” he complained even as his nerves fired with ecstasy. “I’m trying to concentrate on pleasing Connor. It’s not like I have years of experience.”
Georgie laughed joyously. “I’ve noticed you’re a quick learner, besides which Connor likes watching both of us.”
“I do,” their mutual friend agreed. “Please let her do you while you do me.”
Fine, Iksander thought, his body a bit too willing to go along. “Don’t blame me if this goes sideways.”
Unconvinced by his grumping, Georgie nuzzled his shoulder and gave it a tiny nip. In his head, Iksander admitted the gesture was welcome. He’d do his best, which was all anyone could ask. That decided, he steadied the angel’s cock.
Then he placed his lips on the crown and pushed.
My God, he thought at the butter-smooth, marble-thick surge of it going in. Sucking Connor this way was pleasurable, but the man was a monument. Iksander was fortunate his nature gave him extra control of his throat’s reactions. Recalling treatment he’d enjoyed himself, he laved his tongue hard and wet on him.
“Jesus,” Connor gasped, his big hand startling to back of Iksander’s head. “Yes, please, do more of that.”
“Kneel up,” Georgie suggested. “So Iksander doesn’t have to lean down so much.”
Connor knelt up, and suddenly everything was easier. He could hold Connor’s rear to guide him—plus, well, holding Connor’s rear was fun. Connor moaned as the sultan gripped and kneaded his tight muscles.
Georgie stroked him in the same rhythm that Iksander sucked Connor. That was convenient. If he needed to edge back from the precipice, he simply slowed down himself. Connor’s hold shifted from Iksander’s head to massaging his shoulders. The stroke felt good—hypnotizing, almost. This could have been a dream. The three of them moved in a kind of dance, giving and taking in synchrony. Their breathing deepened. The men wanted to hang on.
Connor let out a moan as if this were growing difficult.
Excited by that, Iksander ran both hands up Connor’s thighs. His balls were drawn up, plump within his scrotum. Iksander squeezed the sac, which caused Connor to shift his knees wider.
“Longer,” he said, sounding like his throat was tight.
Because it was what he would have wanted, Iksander understood what he meant. He lengthened the wet push and pull of his mouth. A second later, Georgie did the same with her fisted hand. Hot prickles suffused his skin. This was it. No more waiting. He and Connor were going to go over together.
The angel cupped his ears as Iksander rolled his eyes upward. The other man’s expression astounded him. Muscles tight, skin flushed, his blue gaze speared Iksander’s without a sliver of self-protectiveness. He let the sultan see how much he wanted this, how much he cared for and trusted him. That made Iksander flush in return. He was so close to coming he couldn’t speak. All he could do was suck harder.
He wanted to give the angel a climax he wouldn’t soon forget.
“Ah,” Connor cried.
The ridges of his flat stomach tensed. His cock swelled and so did Iksander’s. Suddenly, Georgie’s fist tugged Iksander’s length double speed, pulling it fiercely in and out from his abdomen. Oh she’d learned what he liked. The hint of pain was perfect, the sense of helplessness created by her near roughness. Nerves flaring white with pleasure, his enjoyment spiked beyond his power to restrain. Connor’s ejaculation shot down his throat at the exact instant his own tore free.
Djinn had a large capacity for pleasure, and Iksander was no exception. Seared and seized by his second peak, a rapturous groan ripped from him. Connor echoed it and thrust as Georgie hugged Iksander tight from behind. Her arms were strong, her breasts flattened to his skin. Following her example, his fingers clamped hard on Connor’s hips. He was held and holding, completely reckless yet utterly secure. The glow that swamped him a moment later was nearly as intense as an orgasm. Gasping, he pulled free to kiss Connor’s chest.
The sound of ragged breathing—from all of them—was as rewarding as the floweriest compliment.
After that, he truly was relaxed. Flopping back in the rumpled sheets with the others—one sweaty lover on each side—didn’t trigger uptightness. Georgie’s head rested easily on his shoulder, Connor’s fingers feeling completely right twined with his. He rubbed Connor’s hand with his thumb. The angel’s taste lingered in his mouth, the impression of Georgie’s grip still pulsing on his slack penis. He wouldn’t have traded either for twenty heaps of gold.
I’m getting used to this, he thought.
“I learned something tonight,” he said, his voice deepened by lassitude.
“What’s that?” Connor asked as Georgie hummed sleepily.
“Having new partners is exciting, but being less new is better.”
Connor laughed. “If being less new means we can make love like that, I have to agree with you.”