Divine Solace: 8 (43 page)

“Oh…” It was starting to hurt a lot, the accumulation of the
impacts, but just like when Lyda punished her, the more it hurt, the more she
seemed to want. When he finally did stop, her fingers dug into the cover and
she whimpered, as if she wanted him to keep going.

“Look at me, Gen.”

She was sniffling, a little teary, a catharsis she was
learning came with punishments. Lyda gave her a tender look, then crooked a
finger at her. “Come here.”

Noah’s hands gripped her waist as he lifted Gen’s trembling
body over the footboard. She crawled forward, kept coming until she was
straddling Lyda’s hips. She didn’t make a move to take that phallus inside her,
though. That was her Mistress’s call. Again, she earned that look of approval
that made everything worth it. Lyda settled her hands on Gen’s hips and then,
showing her own finesse with a strap-on, she began to lower Gen onto it.

She’d been right. It was thicker than the last one. Lyda
worked it into her slow, though, controlling her descent. When Gen was in to
the hilt, Lyda laid her head back on the mattress, eyes half-lidded and mouth
curved in a sensual way that made Gen want to taste her, touch her. But her
Mistress was in the mood to be cruel.

“Lace your hands on the back of your head, Gen. You totally
belong to us right now. We’re the ones taking.”

It made her feel even more vulnerable. Noah put his knee on
the bed, shifted behind her. As he fitted the head of his cock to her opening,
his thumbs parting her buttocks, she made an uncertain noise.

“Sshh,” Lyda said, holding her gaze. “Do you want to please
us?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Then trust us. Push against him.”

She did, and he started to make headway, no pun intended.
Noah wrapped an arm around her waist, his strong biceps contracting against the
side of her breast. It burned a little, but she breathed through it.

“Squeeze down on me, Gen.”

As she did, Noah groaned, and she realized the same motion
squeezed his cock inside her. Lyda’s eyes sparked. “You see how much pleasure
you give both of us?”

“She’s too tight, Mistress.”

“Relax,” Lyda crooned at her, cupping one of Gen’s breasts
and stroking the nipple above the lace. “He’s not going to push. He’ll go as
slow as you need him to go. Think about how it feels, all those tiny nerves
around your rim and inside, quivering, eager. I know it hurts some. Let’s see
what we can do about that.”

Lyda made an adjustment beneath them, her knuckles brushing
Gen’s labia, and then the strap-on was vibrating, those tiny beads caressing
and massaging Gen’s opening, the two-way clitoral stimulator pressed in just
the right place.

She held Lyda’s eyes, held onto her voice, Noah’s hands
stroking her sides, his mouth brushing her neck. Gen let out a little whimper
as Noah made it all the way in.

Lyda’s face was suffused with pleasure, her gaze coursing
down over Gen’s quivering breasts in the pretty bra. She captured one to play
with and Noah caught the other, two different types of touches, tearing her
into two equally pleasurable sides, a harlequin of response.

Their hands dropped back down to Gen’s hips, Noah’s hands
overlapping Lyda’s. The two of them started so gradually, it was a rhythmic
motion like two children daydreaming on a seesaw. The slippery movement of his
cock inside Gen did start to feel more pleasurable, less painful, though enough
of that burn stayed to make it provocative, to keep Gen cognizant of that
arousing sense of serving their needs, no matter her own discomfort. It turned
her on so freaking much she couldn’t even wrap her mind around it.

Holy God, that stimulator. As Lyda began to be more
insistent about pushing up inside her, a climax roared up on Gen so quickly,
she didn’t expect it. Her fingers knotted against the back of her head. “I
can’t…Mistress…I’m going to come.”

“Yes, you are. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to
stop it.”

Lyda made it sound like the threat it was. Gen had never had
a climax while being impaled both vaginally and anally before. Throw the
vibration into it, the stimulation to her nipples and breasts, and it was like
being shot off into orbit. And the stimulation didn’t abate. It got more
intense, the two of them ramping up the force of their thrusts, so the speed
and force of the rocket just kept increasing.

She screamed, long and loud, no hope that a babbling creek
would cloak the sound. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her climax echoed
through the mountains. She begged, pleaded and screamed some more as she spun
out of that orbit, control lost, spiraling toward impact. It was almost too
much, a torment, but they refused to heed her pleas for mercy. That impact hit
and the feeling just kept going, plowing deep beyond her pussy and ass, into
her very soul, shattering it.

She had a shred of cognizance left when the two of them
followed her. Lyda’s face tightened, her eyes getting that lovely glazed look.
Vaguely, Gen heard her order Noah to let go. His arm around her nearly cut off
her breath, but it was a blissful asphyxiation as they both hammered into her
for the full measure of satisfaction. Their harsh groans, pleasurable cries,
gasping breaths, kept her captured in a post-climactic miasma, taking her with
them, as far out over the mountains and into the sky as they wanted to go.
Soaring, soaring, soaring.

She’d never blacked out during sex. When she became aware
again, Noah had pulled free and disposed of his condom. He was laying her down
on Lyda, Lyda’s arms winding around Gen to hold her secure against her body.
The strap-on was still inside Gen, but Noah took care of that as well,
unbuckling it and pulling it free of them both, causing them to make twin
sounds of pleasure at the friction. Gen pressed herself against Lyda’s mound,
absorbing a ricochet of aftershock. Lyda responded with a teasing little hip
rotation and bump that made Gen moan again.

During their lovemaking, the cavitation of their three
bodies had left them in a diagonal stretch across the bed. When she rested her
head on Lyda’s shoulder, she saw Noah wrap his hand around Gen’s foot, pressed
against Lyda’s shin. He bent, pressed a gentle kiss to Gen’s buttock, teasing
it with his tongue. Then he nuzzled Lyda’s knee, kissed it the same way.

She drifted some more, soothed by his caresses. When she
tuned in again, he had a damp cloth between her buttocks, something that
soothed. Lyda stroked her head.

“Nicely done, rabbit,” she murmured. “You’re our sweet
little fucktoy. We’re never letting you go.”

It showed how fried her brain was that she accepted that as
the best of compliments, a stirring one at that. She was happy with it. She was
happy with any designation from Lyda that started with “our”, even if it was
just playful aftercare. She closed her eyes, and wanted nothing more than to be
theirs.

* * * * *

She wasn’t sure how Lyda felt about it, but Gen was nervous
about how Noah’s grandmother would perceive their relationship. There were
older female patrons at Tea Leaves who had the detection powers of CIA
operatives. If they chose not to comment about something, it had to do with
traditional manners and courtesy, not stupidity. They came from an era when
sexual matters were behind closed doors, not aired on Dr. Phil like a laundry
list.

People were getting more accustomed to same-sex partners, so
the chemistry between her and Lyda might pass without comment, but Gen wasn’t
sure there was any way to disguise that chemistry was a three-way connection.
Noah seemed unconcerned about the matter, but since it was clear Noah could be
a few sandwiches shy of a picnic on certain subjects, that wasn’t necessarily
reassuring.

No more time to worry over it, though, since they were even
now walking up the road of the resort where his grandmother was staying. What
would happen would happen. Gen just didn’t want to do anything that would give
Noah problems with the one family member who still accepted him. Glancing over
at Lyda, she looked a little too dispassionate, her way of covering tension,
but Lyda had made it clear she didn’t really do families, that this situation
with Noah was an exception.

It made sense. How would you introduce a woman who was your
Mistress, with a capital M, to your family? You couldn’t, so from the get-go
the relationship would be referenced in vague generalities. And “vague
generality” didn’t apply to Lyda at all.

As they turned up the driveway, Gen saw the subject of her
worries was already on the lookout for them. Dorothy “Dot” Wilder was a
heavyset woman with bright blue eyes and a dandelion-style puff of white hair
around her round face. Her hands were gnarled from bad arthritis, her legs bent
with the same, explaining why she used the motorized wheelchair. Noah had said
she could walk with the aid of a walker, but her back was badly twisted as
well.

Those were momentary impressions, however. When Dot saw
them, the expression on her face could only be described as pure joy. All the
smiling lines on her face turned her eyes into cheerful crescents. “There’s my
beautiful grandson. Mona, come out here and see Noah. He’s here.”

When Gen saw the look on Noah’s face, a bright reflection of
the love on Dorothy’s, her worries evaporated. Especially when Dot’s gaze swept
over the two women, a quick sizing up. It wouldn’t matter what missteps she or
Lyda might make. She saw the unbreakable history between these two. More
importantly, she saw everything she needed to know in his grandmother’s eyes. Love,
understanding, sorrow, happiness. Dot was the guardian at the gate, the one
family member who stood for the child within Noah, the child that stayed inside
every adult, either nurtured by love or handicapped by a lack of love.

It made Gen’s heart hurt, seeing the connection between
them, so strong as a result of how weak it was with others.
Well, the joke’s
on you
, she thought. Because any parent with a heart would want their child
to look at them the way he was looking at Dot. Actually, anyone at all would
want Noah to look at them with such devotion.

Gen stilled inside, realizing she had seen that look on
Noah’s face before. It didn’t have the same sensual overtones, of course, but
in some of his intense moments with her or Lyda, his heart had been right there
for them to see. To take.

When Noah glanced at Lyda, she gave him a light shove. “Your
grandmother is top dog here,” she said, with a strained smile that suggested
his expression had broken Lyda’s heart a little as well. “When she says jump,
you leap.”

Noah kissed her hand, and then he was striding across the
wooden bridge and up the steps to hop on the porch and kneel by his
grandmother, whom he enveloped in a huge hug.

Lyda linked arms with Gen, both of them studying the two,
giving them a minute. “So she lives in Tampa the rest of the year?” Gen asked.

“Yeah. Even when he moved in with me, he went to see her a
couple days a week. It does him a lot of good. I hadn’t met her before now,
though.” At Gen’s glance, Lyda grimaced. “Yeah, I’m a hardass, I know it. But
you two forced me into a weak moment, so here I am.”

Lyda tempered it with a wry look, but when she put pressure
on Gen’s arm, it was clear she wanted Gen right with her when they stepped onto
the porch. She
was
nervous. Yeah, in a Lyda kind of way, which was more
like aggressive tension, ready for a fight, and there was no fight to be had
here. Despite her initial worry over how displays of affection would be
interpreted, Gen put her hand over Lyda’s. Her Mistress’s fingers were cold.

“It’s okay,” she said. “She’s going to think you’re amazing,
the way we all do.”

“I suck at families,” Lyda said, keeping a smile on her
face, barely moving her lips.

“Not from where I’m standing. Seems like you’re working
toward creating one out of the three of us. And doing a pretty good job of it.”

That won a startled look. “Don’t freak me out, rabbit.”

“Nice to know you have a freak-out button.”

“Remember I also have a whip.”

In truth, Gen hadn’t realized anything had the capacity to
spook their Mistress, but that idea—her, Noah and Lyda forming a
family—apparently did. Lyda never lacked for courage, though. She took a breath
and they’d crossed the bridge, though Gen squeezed her hand once more before
Lyda gently pushed her forward, so she preceded her. As Gen went up the narrow
set of steps that led up to the back porch of the bungalow, Lyda following,
Noah rose, his hand still in his grandmother’s grasp.

“I told her I just saw her three weeks ago,” he said. “I’m
not back from Afghanistan or anything.”

“Don’t sass your grandmother,” Dorothy scolded. “Every
morning I wake up is one more morning I’m surprised I’m not dead. So when I see
you, it’s like
I’m
coming from Afghanistan.”

Yep, just as blunt as the women at the tea room. Gen liked
her already, even as the shrewd blue eyes pinned her like a hawk. “Introduce me
to your friends, Noah.”

“This is Lyda Coltrane, my boss at the nursery, and
Genevieve Wisner, a good friend. She goes by Gen.”

It surprised Gen that Noah knew her full name, let alone
introduced her by it. He must have gotten it from Chloe, which made her wonder
what else her coworker had told him about her. Probably best that she didn’t
ask.

Dorothy extended a gnarled hand to Lyda. “Gently, girl.
Fingers are a mess.”

Lyda gave her the lightest of squeezes. “All the work I do
at the nursery, my hands often ache at night. What do you use for yours?”

“Oh, I’ve tried all sorts of remedies. I’ll give you a few
ideas while you’re here. If I’d done some of them earlier, I would have been
better off. But I hope you won’t face that. Look at how tall and lovely you
are.” She turned to Gen. “And where do you work?”

“Tea Leaves, ma’am.”