Divine Solace: 8 (13 page)

“A nice choice. You notice the little things. Make her
smile, Noah. She’s getting too worried about things.”

Noah leaned forward, blew on Gen’s lips, which did make her
smile, but he wasn’t done. As her lips parted, he pressed the advantage,
bringing them together in a kiss, his tongue entering to tease hers. Then she
jumped as a tickling vibration skated along her tongue, the inside of her lip.

He drew back as she caught herself in a startled chuckle, a
near giggle and squirm. His devilish look made her laugh outright, her body
moving against Lyda’s hold. Lyda held her in her lap, her palm flat on her
abdomen right below her breasts, her other hand playing in her hair. It was
intoxicating to have her vision taken up by them both.

“Yes, it vibrates,” Lyda said. “Which doesn’t seem much
different from what you can buy in a novelty shop, until you experience what he
can do with it.”

The part-threat, part-tease transformed Gen’s amusement into
anticipation. As Noah shifted back to the end of the couch, Lyda held her body
more securely. “You relaxed a little more. Progress.” Lyda spoke against her
ear. “Do I make you feel safe, rabbit?”

Yes.
And no.
Again she recognized the echo of
the feeling as something she often experienced in Marguerite’s presence. With
Lyda, the core of it included a craving to get even closer, physically, not
just stand under the shade of that canopy. “I keep myself safe,” Gen said.

“I’m getting that. But there’s a difference between being
safe in a panic room and feeling safe in the sunshine. We’ll talk about that
another time, though. Right now, I’m going to make you lose your mind.”

“Ah…” Gen didn’t have to come up with an answer for that.
Noah was back to giving her a foot massage, but not with his hands. He’d
started to tease her bare feet with his mouth, running that tongue stud up the
arch. It wasn’t vibrating, which was probably good, because she had very
ticklish feet. Yet the feelings he was evoking weren’t ticklish. The aroused
strumming up her legs during his massage had been gentle waves. Now they
sharpened into direct lines of sensation, shooting up her inner thighs, behind
her knees. As he moved to her ankles, Gen let out an unsteady breath.

“That dress is short enough I bet Noah can see your panties.
You’re nice and wet aren’t you? He’ll smell it as he gets closer.”

Gen had paid little attention to the surrounding people
since Lyda had sat her down on the couch, but realizing where this was heading,
she became aware of interested glances, and not just in the sitting area. Since
she was in a position to look up, she saw what Noah had pointed out earlier.
Both the second and third floor of The Zone allowed for mezzanine galleries to
view what was happening below, even in a seemingly casual area like this. Noah
and Lyda were striking enough to attract attention, even if they’d been doing
this to a mannequin. She saw faces above, studying them.

“They don’t matter. All that matters is how you feel, and
what I want.”

Lyda leaned forward, taking up more of Gen’s vision. She
also moved her fingertips beneath the vee of the dress to caress Gen’s breast
more intimately. “Spread your legs, Gen.”

Lyda said it in a low voice, but it was her first direct
order to Gen, no mistaking it for what it was. By obeying, Gen would be doing
what felt right at the moment, but how did that commit her future actions? If
she let go of the anchor of her own will, she could be swept away on the tide
of Lyda’s. She caught Lyda’s leg in one hand, white knuckled.

“Ssshh…close your eyes. Just listen to my voice.”

Gen shut her eyes. Was she really doing this, in the middle
of a public room, voices all around her? Though the room was buffered, it
wasn’t completely soundproof. With her eyes closed, she heard other things, as
if they were conspiring with Lyda to gain her compliance. Cries of pain from
one direction, underscored by a rhythmic noise like the slap of a flogger, a
counterbeat to the distant dance floor music. A shriek of ecstasy, as someone
else reached climax.

When Gen inhaled, she was inundated with perfumes and
colognes, everything from jasmine to lavender to sandalwood to the overwhelming
smell of sexual desire, which overlaid everything else. What had Noah said?
Everything here was consensual, what people wanted. Craved. Needed. One of
those aroused scents was hers.

Noah had reached her knees, that clever mouth making wet
patterns on her flesh, his teeth adding marks from short nips. When he curled
his tongue around the crease of her knee, teasing the back, she shifted
restlessly. She’d spread her legs a little at Lyda’s command, but now Noah’s
strong hands gripped her thighs, spread her wider. Enough that one knee was bent
and pushed against the back of the couch, the other positioned so her foot was
flat on the floor. Lyda adjusted her so her back and hips accommodated the
change. She wanted Gen to let go of the anchor, trusting Lyda to be the vessel.

Noah’s upper body was stretched over the couch, one hand
braced against her bent leg to hold it in place, the other curved over the
upper thigh of her other leg to hold it down. Uncertainty returned at the
restraint, but Lyda used the nylon content of the dress Gen wore to stretch the
neckline of the dress open and down, revealing and framing the satin bra.

“Very pretty,” she confirmed. “And thin, so I can see when
your nipples are hard. You’re already dressing for a Mistress’s pleasure.” She
slid her hands inside the bra, her knuckles pushing back the cups to keep them
out of the way. The open air touched Gen’s taut nipples. Now anyone could see.
But when Noah lifted his lashes to give them a lingering stare, she couldn’t
look beyond his expression or Lyda’s reaction.

“You have gorgeous breasts,” Lyda said. Noah made a noise of
fervent agreement. He dipped his head, returning to licking, kissing, nuzzling
her inner thighs. Occasionally she felt a tiny thrum as he let the tongue stud
vibrate, then he cut it back again, its stimulation unpredictable. His hands
had slid up her thighs, pushed back the skirt, his thumbs so close to her pussy
they pressed against the elastic of the panties.

“Noah is going to go down on you.” Lyda leaned forward
further, her beautiful hair curtaining Gen’s face. Reaching up, Gen threaded
her fingers through it, pleased with the thick softness. Lyda studied Gen’s
fingers on her hair. The look on her face was pleasure, laced with a reserve
that told Gen she’d considered ordering her to put her hands down. But Gen
wasn’t here as a sub or a Domme. Certain liberties would be allowed. At least
right now.

“Noah is going to eat your pussy, drive you to insanity,”
Lyda continued in that melted-sugar voice. “But he’s not going to let you come.
Not until you beg me to take you home with me tonight.”

That was blackmail. Extortion. Something nefarious. Before
she could argue, though, Noah’s tongue slid over the crotch of Gen’s panties,
teasing her pussy through the silk fabric.

“He’s a master at this. He compares it to martial arts
positions, giving names to different strokes, positions, rhythms. Hummingbird,
Flowing Water… He’ll tell you all that nonsense sometime when his mouth isn’t
otherwise occupied.”

Noah had a finger occupied as well, because he’d caught the
edge of the panties, eased them aside, so that metal stud was sliding up her
bare labia. It made her thigh muscles strain. Lyda’s thumbs and forefingers
captured Gen’s nipples. It started as a light hold, but then became an
increasingly firmer pinch. As the discomfort increased, the coil low in her
belly got tighter, and she found she didn’t want Lyda to ease off, as if the
pain was feeding into the pleasure, making it bittersweet. Gen arched into her
touch.

“That’s it. Thrust those lovely tits up at me.” Lyda tugged
harder on her nipples, as if she was pulling Gen up by that hold. Gen gasped,
her head pressing against the firm pillow of Lyda’s breasts, Lyda’s shoulder.
Which also pushed her pussy against Noah’s face, increasing the sensation
there. Noah shifted his position. It was as if he was teasing her with light
fingers, only this was his tongue against flesh, wet heat.

She moaned. “That first sweet taste,” he murmured. He slid
his hands under her buttocks, digging into the satin of the panties as he pressed
his thumbs on either side of the labia, a compression she felt in her clit.
When he spoke again, she strained to hear him, even as everything he did made
it more difficult to focus her senses.

“This is called…bee on a flower. Following the stem, every
petal, to the center, where your honey is sweetest…” The tongue stud pressed
one single point, and sensation exploded in her core, bucking her up against
him in an unexpected flow of motion he nevertheless anticipated, his sure hands
holding her. The stud began making a light buzz, and that sensation
skyrocketed. A desperate sound broke from her lips. Now she found just how
strong Noah was, because his hands held her fast, didn’t let her move more than
an inch as he played with her.

“Hold there. Ssshh. Just ride it.” Lyda’s hair brushed her
face again, and Gen’s wild gaze flicked up to her. Lyda looked as caught up in
Gen’s pleasure as she herself was, in a different way. Gen panted, attention
latched onto Lyda’s mouth, the moist lips, the gloss there.

“Do you need a kiss, Gen?”

Gen nodded and then her body twisted hard as Noah’s tongue
slid right up beneath the clit. He swirled a tight circle there, then pushed
deep into her cunt. The rate of vibration had become more intense. She felt it
everywhere, through all the delicate tissues and veins, those layers of flesh
like the juicy inside of a ripe fruit when like this. That was probably what he
called this maneuver…ripe fruit…

“Ask me nicely.” Lyda’s intent face was over her, eyes
demanding.

“Please…” She couldn’t call her Mistress. Could she? She
wasn’t sure. Fortunately the please was enough.

Lyda bent, and Gen kept her eyes open, wanting to see this
time. Lyda’s lips pressed against hers, an exploratory caress, soft but not too
soft. A woman’s kiss wasn’t as girly as Gen had expected. Maybe because Lyda
didn’t kiss the way Gen did, a yielding of her lips to the pressure of the
lover’s. Lyda held her mouth firm, so it was Gen’s mouth that became more
pliant, gave way, trembled, as Lyda’s tongue slid along her lips, entered her
mouth, and then her lips sealed over Gen’s, making the kiss strong and sure,
sweeping her away. Seeking an anchor, Gen tangled her fingers in Lyda’s silky
red locks. Lyda’s hand locked over her wrist, holding her there.

It was an amazing mix, Lyda’s female beauty so close, her
hair brushing Gen’s cheeks and temples, her lips on her own, while Noah’s five
o’clock shadow rasped against Gen’s inner thighs. Male and female, integrated.
Noah wasn’t the type of male Gen knew, the kind she treated with wariness. Even
so, she didn’t think Noah alone could have coaxed her into this position, for
the simple reason that Gen’s vulnerabilities had been past prey for male
attentions, not female. Noah was under Lyda’s command. Somewhat. Was that why it
was easier for her to let go like this?

Any intelligent thoughts were driven away as Noah shifted
once more, flattening his upper body on the loveseat. His chin scraped her
perineum as he flicked and worried her clit, making her hips gyrate like a
carnival ride, her hand clamped on Lyda’s thigh. Lyda curved her fingers into
the spaces between, unlatching Gen from her leg to form a hard knot. She did it
with the other hand as well. But as Noah continued his torturous magic, Lyda
shifted her grip to Gen’s wrists. She drew her arms back past Lyda’s hips until
her knuckles were pressed against the couch arm, as if Gen’s hands were being
restrained behind Lyda’s back. Lyda’s upper body pressed more firmly into her
shoulder blades, arching Gen further.

She was soaked, Noah likely getting a wealth of the honey
he’d described on his tongue and lips as he drove her higher. How wet was Lyda?
What would happen if Gen turned over, pressed Lyda back on the sofa, buried her
face in Lyda’s pussy the way Noah was buried in hers?

“Ahhh…” Gen let out another cry as Noah did a new amazing
thing between her legs. Lyda remained bent attentively over Gen’s face. Her
lips were moist from kissing Gen.

She was so close…or not. Her body thrashed on the couch as
Noah teased her. Her hips lifted again, pussy wet and begging. The arch of her
body displayed her naked breasts, the stiff tips, for Lyda, Noah, anyone
watching. It didn’t matter. Seeing Lyda study them with proprietary detachment
was a hungry thrill she couldn’t explain.

I’ll keep you safe…

Everything Noah was doing to her, Lyda saw as something she
had the right to command, Gen’s body her possession. Gen could see it in her
intent look, feel it in Lyda’s touch. Maybe it was just a
feeling-of-the-moment, but it had an overwhelming effect on Gen’s senses.

The climax coiled like an unhappy, frantic snake, thwarted
in its strike. She tried to follow Noah’s mouth, to force the issue. He held
her down, teasing her labia with dragging strokes of his tongue, creating
patterns with the tongue stud, here, there. When he lifted her up enough to
trace a firm line up her perineum, such that she felt the vibration of the
tongue stud in her rim, a scream tore from her throat.

“Please…”

“Please, what, Gen? Beg me for what I want, or you won’t come.”

“Please…” She tossed her head back and forth. Noah’s fingers
bit into her thighs, his hair brushing them as he nipped them then went back to
her pussy, tonguing her deep once more, a thrusting penetration, a swirling
lick inside. He made a slow excavation, sliding up toward her clit, under the
hood, putting pressure there. Oh God, she was going to die from all the
sensation. That tongue stud vibrated, lashed over her clit, making her crazy.
Spots came into her vision, but he had the skill to hold everything else out of
reach. Until Lyda got what she wanted.