Planetary Passions 6: Double Trouble (Gemini) Read online

  They’d ducked arbitrarily into a café’s interior and the waiter brought them a jug of wine and three glasses. Without bothering to look at the menu, Pol and Cas ordered a full roast with whatever fruits they had and bread, as fresh as could be had.

  The waiter stared at them then turned around and bellowed to the kitchen. A responding bellow came that fine, they’d do whatever Cas and Pol wanted.

  The pair didn’t seem to have any trouble getting people to fulfill their every desire. They’d usurped the best table in the café, and now the cook was happy to make a special feast just for them.

  And they’d convinced Fiona not only to not yell at them about taking off to the taverna and stealing from Hans, she’d let the two of them pleasure her. Together.

  It had been a long time since Fiona’s last sexual encounter. She’d broken up with her previous boyfriend three years ago, in grad school for heaven’s sake. And never in the eighteen-month relationship with him had she felt what the twins had made her feel in the empty taverna.

  No sex for three years, and then bam, she had a pleasure session with two men at the same time. When had life gotten so out of hand?

  But Cas stroking her had made her nearly explode with passion. Not to mention holding Pol’s warm shaft in her hand, letting his tip bump her palm with satin softness and the slick heat of his come slide over her fingers.

  Never in her wildest, wildest dreams would she have thought she’d be pleasured by two identical, gorgeous hunks of men at the same time.

  Hunks of men who thought she was a goddess or at least some sort of magical being.

  “All I did,” she repeated, “was find the pieces of the jar and put it back together.”

  “And how did you find all the pieces?” Cas asked. “How did you know to put them together?”

  His hand slid to her thigh, touching the skin bared by her shorts. She cleared her throat.

  “By working my butt off. I surveyed and took notes and hunted and sorted through thousands of pieces of pottery before I found the right ones. The vessel must have been shattered in one place and the pieces moved. Usually pots are found on a garbage dump or shoved to the corner of a room. The pieces might be scattered, but not that much. Pieces of this one turned up in a huge variety of places, as though they had been deliberately separated.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Pol said grimly. “You say you are not magic, but why should you repair the vessel unless you knew to break the spell?”

  “Curiosity.” She bit her lip, thinking. “No, I admit I was drawn to it. When I had enough together to see that it had the portrait of a beautiful man on it, I wanted to keep going. It was a biceps that came together first.”

  She glanced at Cas’, which were brawny and strong without being too huge.

  “I wonder whose,” Pol said, eyes twinkling. “His or mine.”

  “I don’t know.” Her face heated. “Everyone calls it ‘Fiona’s sex jar’, because the painting is so erotic. What was it meant to be?”

  Pol lost his smile. “A spell.”

  “A trap,” Cas added. “By a demon demigoddess whose anger surpassed her reason.” The muscles of his jaw hardened, his eyes dark with old rage. “She tried to murder Pol.”

  Pol gestured with his wine cup. “She used me as bait so Cas would come running to save my life. As soon as we were together, she started weaving the spell, trapping us in the painting.”

  “Why?” Fiona asked. “Why should she want you in a painting?”

  She glanced at both twins, taking in their attractive physiques, molten dark eyes and handsome-as-sin faces. She supposed that in a painting, a person could look at them whenever they wished—but not to be able to touch them or hear them or taste them? What was the demigoddess thinking?

  Not to mention caging them up for several thousands of years. That was just wrong.

  Cas set his wine glass on the table and smoothed a lock of Fiona’s unruly hair. “The idea was that we’d be trapped copulating with her for eternity. I don’t think it worked, because there was—nothing.”

  “That’s evil,” Fiona said indignantly. “Why should she do such a thing? I mean, I understand why a woman would want to have sex with you—believe me, I do—but that seems a little extreme.”

  Pol sloshed more wine into his cup then Fiona’s. “Ah, but she was a woman scorned. Scorned by us.”

  “She wanted us,” Cas said bluntly. “And we said no.”

  Fiona studied him, curious. “Why did you say no? Well all right, apart from her being an evil demigoddess and trying to kill Pol.”

  “Just because we have healthy sexual appetites,” Pol said, “doesn’t mean we drop our clothes for every women who walks by. She wanted us to pledge ourselves to her and champion her and help her move up the goddess hierarchy. She more or less wanted us to be her slaves and couldn’t understand when we objected.”

  “So she decided we’d be with her for eternity,” Cas said. “She bound us with very strong magic and forced us to perform the sexual ritual, and then—oblivion.”

  Fiona shivered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Which you released us from.” Pol raised her hand to his lips. The touch of his sensual mouth on her skin started the fires between her legs again, not that they’d really damped down. “With your magic called archaeology.”

  Cas turned his wine glass moodily. “The problem is, if we are free, I imagine she is free as well.”

  “Her image disappeared from the vessel,” Fiona said. “Yours didn’t. Maybe that means you got free and she didn’t.”

  “I do not want to count on this,” Cas answered. “She might be out there right now, in Athens, searching for you, wanting her vengeance for freeing us.”

  Fiona stared at him. “But she was trapped in oblivion too. Wouldn’t she be out celebrating that she’s free? The spell obviously went wrong. Why should she be angry at me for that?” She looked at both their faces. Cas was frowning, and Pol still looked grim. “Oh, I forgot, she’s an evil demigoddess.”

  “She never liked to be thwarted,” Pol said. “She won’t like it now.”

  “I always thought of gods and goddesses as good,” Fiona said. “Well, within reason. They fight amongst themselves but aren’t too bad toward normal humans. Demigod means half human, half god. What is this demigoddess’s name, and which of the Pantheon was her father?”

  “She called herself Selena,” Pol said. “She was spawned by Poseidon and a she-demon of great power.”

  “Oh,” Fiona said. “That can’t be good.”

  Cas drew his finger across her cheek, the warmth tingling her skin. “No. As you say, that can’t be good.”

  She kissed his finger, feeling daring. “I’ll do what I can to help,” she said.

  Cas smiled his slow, heated smile that made her remember his fingers penetrating her, bringing her to pleasure with intense, wild friction. “We know. That’s why we like you.”

  Pol lifted her hand to his lips. “And why we’ll give you all the pleasure you want in return.”

  “All the pleasure?” she asked faintly.

  “Anything you want,” Cas said, nuzzling her. “What do you want, Fiona?”

  She wanted them.

  Good lord, what was the matter with her? She’d never wanted unconventional sex in her life. Never dreamed she ever would have it.

  And now she wanted more of it. Someone needed to hose her down, because she was burning up.

  Cas and Pol watched her intently, waiting for her answer, their dark eyes pools of wanting.

  Fiona swallowed hard. “Look,” she babbled, relieved. “Here comes the food.”

  * * * * *

  The twins’ worry about the demon demigoddess did not make them rush back to the dig to find answers and hide from her. Instead, they settled down to enjoy the extensive meal brought lovingly by the waiters.

  Fiona ate sparingly, enjoying the food but too stunned by the events of the day and the night before to be able to concent
rate on eating. The twins, on the other hand, ate everything, passing compliment after compliment to the cooks.

  They had meat and wine and fruit and more wine and cheese and more wine and sweet sticky baklava and more wine. They remained at the restaurant for three hours, talking and eating and laughing with Fiona and total strangers.

  Just when Fiona was wondering how they were going to pay for all of it and whether she would have to foot the bill, Cas held up a plastic card and handed it to the waiter.

  Fiona spluttered, coughing up wine. Pol thumped her on the back as the waiter disappeared into the back with the card.

  “That’s Hans Jorgensen’s credit card. You can’t use that.”

  “On the contrary, Fiona, everyone wishes me to pay with this card.”

  “But you stole it from him—when you stole his clothes, I might add.”

  “Borrowed,” Pol corrected. “We will acquire our own and return them. He was the only man we saw who was the same size and shape we are.”

  “He won’t be so understanding when he reports you to the police for stealing his credit card and going on a spending spree.”

  “But we are spending nothing,” Cas said. “We give the card and all is given to us. Everyone in Athens will soon know that Hans Jorgensen likes their wares and their food. I am writing his name so he will be thanked, not me.”

  Pol nodded, his face flushed with wine. “‘Tis generous of you, brother.”

  “Oh, gods.”

  Fiona laid her head on the cool wooden table. How on earth was she to explain credit cards to demigods who hadn’t gone out in twenty-five hundred years? Athenians had been sophisticated when it came to money, but she wasn’t quite sure what a modern equivalent would be.

  She raised her head and heaved a sigh. “They aren’t giving you the things because you have a card. I mean, they are but…” She started again. “It’s like a running tally. The card keeps track of everything that’s spent and at the end of the month, Hans receives one really—big—bill.”

  Both Pol and Cas frowned over this. Then Cas said, “You mean we are buying on credit.”

  “Yes,” she said, relieved. “That’s what I mean.”

  “You should have said so.” The waiter put the bill down in front of Cas and he lifted the pen and wrote Hans Jorgensen in a practiced manner. Fiona bit back a groan.

  “Don’t worry, Fiona,” Cas said, smiling his sinful smile. “We will pay him.”

  “How?” She lowered her voice. “You don’t have any money.”

  Pol exchanged a knowing look with Cas. “But we know where some is. And Hans will get it all.”

  Somehow, this didn’t make Fiona feel any better.

  They left the restaurant. It was well dark now, and Fiona assumed they’d return to the dorm. But as soon as they left the café, Pol lifted his head and said, “I hear music.”

  Most of the cafés and tavernas featured singing and dancing that lasted well into the night and early morning. The street was crowded with people walking or standing in groups talking to the people who sat in tables at the outdoor cafés.

  Cas slid his arms around Fiona’s waist as Pol strode off in search of whatever music had caught his attention. They strolled along behind, keeping Pol’s tall form in view.

  “I want you.” Cas’ lips touched her ear, his voice low and sensuous.

  She gave a shaky laugh. “Demigods aren’t much for being subtle are they?”

  “I mean I want you for myself. Just me.” His breath tickled deep inside her, lighting fires all the way.

  The heat made her blush. “So you and Pol usually…”

  “Share. Yes.” His fingers slid to the small of her back. “But this time I think I want you to myself. Mine to savor. Alone.”

  She had the sudden vision of herself and Cas standing in a warm room, her dorm room, for instance, their clothes on the floor, their hands all over each other. She thought about the way she’d held Pol’s huge cock in her hands, but it had been Cas who’d stroked her, held her, and demanded nothing from her.

  “What about Pol?” she asked as tingling invaded her entire body.

  “Pol is rarely left without companionship. Women love him. He is, I think the English word is outgoing, always with laughter and jests on his lips. He is irresistible, I am told. While I am perhaps not as interesting.”

  “Don’t think that.” Fiona stopped. “You’re more thoughtful and quiet but plenty interesting. Trust me.”

  He gave her a half smile and smoothed a ringlet on her forehead. “I wish you for myself, Fiona Archaeologist.”

  “McCarty. My last name is McCarty. Archaeology is what I do.”

  “It is a part of you,” Cas said. “It is what you are, this archaeology, this magic that made you search for pieces of a pot scattered across these islands. I want to explore that part of you, Fiona.”

  He brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth, sending fires dancing through her.

  “I imagine you want to explore other parts of me too,” Fiona smiled into his skin.

  Cas grinned, his eyes suddenly lighting. “All of you, my goddess.”

  Chapter Five

  They found Pol in a taverna already dancing to the sounds of a stringed laoúta, his arms over his head, his feet tracing complicated patterns on the floor. Cas procured himself and Fiona a table near the center of the taverna, and they sat down to watch Pol.

  Pol danced well for a man so tall and muscular. He moved with a sinuous grace that was all masculine and every female in the place appreciated it. He snapped his fingers with the beat and the drinkers at the tables around him clapped or snapped fingers with him.

  He moved his feet as languidly as had the belly-dancer, his hands making sharper gestures than hers. His black hair glistened in the candlelight, his swarthy face gleaming with perspiration.

  “He loves attention,” Cas said, sounding amused. He’d pulled his seat close to Fiona’s and draped his arm across the back of her chair.

  Another man joined Pol on the floor, one with white hair and an obvious experience with dancing. He danced slowly around Pol, the two men moving in harmony. After a time, another man joined with his wife.

  Fiona looked up at Cas to find his face close to hers, his eyes holding a fire that could have burned down the taverna. She wondered where her shyness had gone. Two days ago, she would have writhed with embarrassment to be this close to a man, especially when it was obvious what he had in mind.

  Now she gazed back at him, her heartbeat quick, then raised her face to his and met his lips in a kiss.

  His warm mouth brushed hers and he kissed the corner of her lips, darting his tongue briefly over her skin. Her female places went molten—she swore there was lava down there.

  She kissed him again, following his lead to take it slowly. His eyes closed, thick black lashes resting on his bronzed cheeks. He nuzzled her, then kissed her upper lip. She caught his lower between hers and sucked.

  Cas made a noise of satisfaction. He drew back, eyes half-closed, the gleam from beneath his lids wicked.

  On the floor, Pol continued to dance. He had his gaze on the dancing woman, a fact which the woman noticed and her husband did not. Pol winked and she blushed.

  “I see my brother might be keeping himself busy tonight,” Cas murmured. He slid his arm around Fiona’s shoulders and eased her gently back against him.

  “But she’s married,” Fiona hissed.

  Remembering stories of gods and demigods of the Greek Pantheon, she realized that none of them paid much attention to the marital status of the person they wanted. The only reason Zeus had disguised himself as animals or rain or whatever was because he didn’t want his wife Hera to know he was off philandering. He hadn’t been particular about whether the woman of his affections was married or single.

  “Few women can resist Pol,” Cas said.

  Fiona flushed. “Including me, it seems. I’ve never done that before. You know, with two.”

  “Ther
e’s a first time for everything.” He cuddled her close and pressed a warm kiss to her hair. “I hope the second time is with me.”

  “Will Pol mind?”

  What is wrong with me? I’m asking a man if his brother minds if he doesn’t do a ménage a trois with us.

  “He knows how to keep himself busy.”

  Cas skimmed his thumb along Fiona’s jaw and turned her face to his. This kiss was still slow, but fuller, his mouth slanting all the way across hers. Her blood ran hot, sweat prickling on her forehead, and the cream between her thighs was definitely lavalike.

  He dipped his tongue into her mouth gently but completely and delved expertly to taste every corner of her.

  When she came up for air, she saw Pol staring at them. His look was not possessive like Cas’, but almost feral. He seemed to like watching his brother kiss Fiona so thoroughly.

  “Let us walk,” Cas said. He scraped his chair back and rose, his large body dwarfing hers as he waited, his hand on her chair.

  “What about Pol?”

  Cas slid his gaze to his brother who was dancing again. The beat had increased and Pol’s steps became faster and more intricate. Someone whooped.

  “He’ll be fine. He likes to show off.”

  “But he doesn’t know how to get back to the dorm. Should we leave him?”

  “We will not go far.”

  Hand on the small of her back, Cas steered Fiona through the maze of tables and chairs and out into the cool night. The street was still lively, the sidewalks filled with people lounging and drinking and smoking, music spilling out of doors.

  Fiona liked Athens best at this time of night. The work day was over, the night air refreshing, and everyone relaxed and chatted under the streetlights and the stars.

  “It was like this in the Athens of old,” Cas said. “Except the married women stayed inside. I like to see the women outside, walking freely.”

  Fiona grinned. “An ancient Athenian feminist.”

  “I have not heard this word feminist. But why should women be locked away like prisoners? Men should be allowed to look even if they cannot touch.”