Planetary Passions 6: Double Trouble (Gemini) Read online

  Cas nodded. “In the best possible way.”

  Fiona gurgled in frustration, threw blankets and pillows at them, and stalked from the room.

  Back in her own bedroom, she got into her nightshirt and lay down, but sleep eluded her. Today had been one hell of a day. She’d spent half of it chasing two on-the-loose demigods, then having her first ménage as she stroked Pol and Cas brought her readily to orgasm.

  Then all that food and drink and watching Pol dance, then Cas stealing off with her to the dark garden walk and having her stand in front of him and play with herself for him.

  She shivered again, remembering the night air touching her exposed skin and her own hands working herself to orgasm. She’d never thought herself capable of it.

  Pol and Cas were busily teaching her all that she was capable of.

  At least Pol had been amenable to taking a taxi straight back to the dorm without suggesting they drive up to the Acropolis or something for more impromptu sex. Not that she didn’t think it was coming.

  She also reviewed their story of the demigoddess who’d ensorcelled them onto the jar. She’d never heard this about the legend of Castor and Pollux, the twins of the constellation Gemini, though she admitted she didn’t know much about them.

  She knew the story went that Castor and Pollux were very close brothers, and when Castor was slain—because the twins had carried off two women they wanted and then had to fight the ladies’ suitors…typical of them—Pollux grieved so much that when Zeus made Pollux immortal, he asked if he could share the immortality with Cas.

  Each day, one of the twins would reside in Hades, one in the heavens. Zeus eventually rewarded their loyalty to each other and made them both immortal. They were the brightest stars of the Gemini constellation and said to be lucky for sailing and good weather.

  But the ancient Greeks had come up with many beautiful stories to explain phenomena such as constellations and odd rock formations and echoes and laurel trees. How much was true and how much imagination was difficult to know.

  Perhaps the story had been made up to explain the constellation, while the real Cas and Pol lived on, getting themselves into and out of trouble. Then one day they’d met a lust-ridden demigoddess who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  She ground her teeth. Bitch.

  Fiona McCarty didn’t say such words, but there was no other name for a woman who’d punish the twins because they wouldn’t do the dirty with her. Sometimes people hit it off and sex was great, and sometimes it didn’t happen. Most people faced rejection by walking away, licking their wounds, and finding someone else. But this woman had chosen to punish them by trapping them in oblivion for twenty-five hundred years.

  Why oblivion? Fiona suddenly wondered. The demigoddess had meant to trap them into an eternal erotic game. After Fiona’s own taste of the twins’ sexuality today, she couldn’t really blame the demigoddess for wanting to spend eternity enjoying sex with them, even though she would not have chosen such a cruel method.

  But the demigoddess’s trap hadn’t worked. What had gone wrong?

  Fiona got herself out of bed, pulled on her jeans under the nightshirt, thrust her feet into grubby sneakers, and padded out of her room. Outside the night was quiet, the area around the dorm a silent darkness.

  Once upon a time the Agora had been the heart of the city, as bustling and thriving as the rest of Athens today. The Agora had housed the offices of government, temples to Apollo, Zeus, and other gods, and a huge marketplace. The stoa around the square had solid back walls and pillared walkways that invited people to step into the shade out of the hot sun.

  All of Athens met here, the councils, the law courts and juries, merchants with goods from all corners of the known globe, the famous philosophers and the priests of the temples. It bustled with activity, color and life, much like the flea market and other pedestrian area markets of the city today.

  Now it was dark and silent, its inhabitants long gone, with only the loving care of people interested in its rich past to remind people of the greatness that had gone before. The American School of Classical Studies had worked on this site for nearly a century, restoring and studying the heart of the ancient Athenian empire.

  Fiona’s specialty was pottery, so she pored over tiny fragments the archaeologists unearthed to see what kinds of things merchants had sold in the marketplace and where they had come from—wine, oil, perfume and other exotic things.

  As she crept into the pottery room and turned on the light, she reflected that she’d first thought her vessel had contained wine, but further study by an expert in residues had told her that it had contained nothing, which was strange. Pots—jugs, bowls, vessels, amphora and so forth—had been meant to be used. It was unusual to find one that was purely decorative.

  The cat had returned. It did not look surprised to see Fiona and moved under the table to wash its face.

  Fiona turned the jar around in her hands. The two handles looked the same, but the faint lines where she’d fitted the pieces together had vanished. The twins faced away from the center, arms folded, frowning. And between them, a great gap where the woman had been.

  If the twins were still in the picture as well as able to walk around Athens, not to mention pleasure Fiona, did the fact that the demon demigoddess had disappeared mean she was gone?

  Best not to jump to conclusions. It might also mean that the twins were still tied to the jar somehow while the demigoddess had escaped it completely.

  The fact that all of this was completely impossible made her head ache.

  She turned around and saw Pol leaning against the door frame. Fiona gasped and nearly dropped the vessel but caught it at the last minute set it back on the table. The cat meowed as though in disapproval.

  “You scared the daylights out of me,” Fiona said.

  “I move softly.” He smiled, the wicked twinkle in place in his eyes as he closed the door and came to her. “I am here before you hear me.”

  Her skin prickled with his nearness. Cas warmed her all over, but Pol made her hot with curiosity about what he would do.

  He gave her a knowing look, waiting.

  “Oh gods,” she said, realizing. “Was that you I heard in the garden walk near the taverna? When Cas…” She stopped, figuring if it wasn’t him, he didn’t need to know the details.

  Pol took one step closer to her. “When Cas licked your sweet pussy and made you scream, then had you stand up in front of him and make yourself hot?”

  “Yes. That’s when.” She blushed, her face scalding. “You were there. I knew someone was watching.”

  “Peace, sweet Fiona.” He touched her hair. “‘Twas only me, and I enjoyed it very much.”

  “How completely embarrassing.”

  He leaned down, his body every bit as warm as Cas’ and every bit as exciting. “Why, sweetheart? I loved looking at your ass while you spun your fingers in your honey. I nearly came watching you.”

  Fiona swallowed hard, feeling that honey flowing once more and just as hot. “Cas said…”

  “He said he wanted you to himself. He told me.”

  She backed one step but the table was behind her, its edge sharp against the backs of her thighs. “So why are you here teasing me?”

  “Cas is asleep. No wonder, you wore him out.” Pol grinned. “Cas likes different things in a woman than I do. He treats you sweetly, very loving and generous. Pleasuring you and asking nothing for himself.”

  “I like him.”

  “Of course you do. Why should you not? But what I like from my women is a little more…obedience.”

  He threaded his fingers through Fiona’s red hair and twisted his hand, not hard, but enough that Fiona would not be able to get away without pulling her hair painfully.

  “Obedience,” she repeated, her lips numb.

  He smiled as though pleased she understood. His black eyes fixed on her, lashes still as he gazed at her steadily.

  “For instance, if I found my lad
y alone in the small hours of the night in her nightdress in a room far from inhabited ones, I would—hmm, now what would I do?” The corners of his mouth quirked in his habitual smile as he thought.

  “What?” Fiona faltered.

  Pol released her hand and took a step back. His smile remained in place, as wicked as ever. “I’d command her to take off her clothes.”

  “You would?”

  A slow nod. “I would. Take off your clothes, Fiona. Strip for me.”

  To her consternation, her hand went to the placket of her nightshirt and skimmed it aside to bare her shoulder. “Cas… I told him…”

  “Cas is in bed. I am here. I won’t usurp his territory—no fucking. He claimed you first and I’ll let him have you first. But I want to play.”

  She bit her lip. “But this is the pottery room.”

  His smile went feral. “I also have some ideas on what to do when my lady disobeys me.”

  She shivered as both cold and hot sensations moved through her body. He was a demigod, if she believed in all this. What kinds of things could he do?

  Fiona McCarty, whose dissertation on Athenian and Persian amphora won her acclaim, did not strip for men, did not obey them when they smiled like a cat happening upon a mouse they particularly wanted to tease.

  No, not a cat, she thought with a glance at the animal washing its face under the table, ignoring them.

  Pol was more like a leopard or a panther intent on his prey. His smile was slow, eyes never moving. He knew Fiona would obey, and Fiona knew she would too.

  Slowly she eased the wide opening of her nightshirt down her arms, baring her breasts to the harsh light. Pol waited, expression unchanging. She let the nightshirt drop to the floor then she popped open the button of her jeans and slid them down her legs.

  A muscle moved in Pol’s jaw, but other than that he was a living statue, his body hard under his American School of Classical Studies t-shirt, his cock stiff against the zipper of his jeans.

  Fiona slid her underwear down her legs and stepped out of the circle of clothes. There. She was naked except for the sneakers on her feet.

  Pol ran his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her worn shoes. He took his time, raking his sensual gaze slowly from eyes to lips, throat to breasts, belly to quim, thighs to calves. She felt as though someone had touched her physically, warm fingers brushing her skin all the way down.

  “Very nice,” he pronounced.

  She blushed, rather embarrassed by the praise. Archaeologists were quite interested in the open way ancient cultures dealt with sex, but only in erotica of the past. Fiona had never applied her research to herself in the present day.

  Pol was a man of that ancient time, when sex was a shared pleasure between two, sometimes more, and not a sin. The archaeologist in her grew excited thinking what a mine of information Cas and Pol could be, a window on the past.

  The woman in her grew excited thinking of the kinds of pleasures the people of the past enjoyed and wondering if Pol was about to show her.

  “You are beautiful, Fiona, do you know that?”

  Cas had called her beautiful too. He’d said it with a deep note in his voice that she’d heard in the voice of art historians when they found a particularly fine statue. She’d loved that he called her beautiful but reminded herself that the garden walk had been dark.

  Now she stood under a bare yellow light bulb while Pol let his gaze travel to every part of her.

  “Not really,” she said, remembering to be bashful.

  Pol lost his smile. “I like my ladies to know they are beautiful. Not ashamed of their own bodies. Tell me you are beautiful, Fiona.”

  Fiona glanced down at herself, at her belly which she thought was too full, at her breasts which could be fuller, fingers that were pudgy and usually coated with dust.

  Did any woman ever believe she was beautiful? They were all held to such a high standard even from earliest childhood. See that woman on the television screen? Now she’s beautiful. And if you didn’t look like that, you weren’t.

  Pol’s fingers pressed hard to her chin and wrenched her face upward. He’d moved to her so swiftly and silently she was caught off guard. His eyes were sparks of black fury.

  “Tell me you are beautiful.”

  “I am…” The unfamiliar words lodged in her throat.

  “Say it.” He pinched her chin between hard fingers. “Or I’ll whip you.”

  Her eyes rounded, her heart speeding. In fear or excitement? She couldn’t tell. “Whip?”

  Pol bent and kissed her. His fingers wove through her hair, pulling her head back, mouth battering and bruising hers.

  Her knees weakened, but not for long. Something woke up inside her, something as feral as he was, a long dormant need for wildness and sex and exactly what he was offering.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers biting into his flesh. She opened her mouth wide, wanting all of his tongue and sucking on it when he gave it to her.

  When their mouths broke apart, he said, “You love to suck. I like that.”

  She needed to. She slammed his lips back to hers and got back to the business of sucking on his lips and his tongue. They clutched each other, hands as bruising as mouths, hers skimming to his buttocks under his jeans.

  She tried to worm her fingers under his waistband and whimpered in her throat when she couldn’t get very far.

  Pol wrenched himself away from her. She stumbled a few feet back, panting, watching him round-eyed. He was smiling. He unhooked his belt, also stolen from Hans, and unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans.

  He wasn’t wearing anything under them. Going commando, she thought the expression went. She’d noticed he was bare beneath his jeans in the taverna even while she’d been distracted by Cas’ body wrapping around hers.

  His cock stood out straight and hard from the black curls of hair framed by the open zipper of the jeans. Dear goddess of love, he looked like the best male magazine model she’d ever seen.

  He started laughing, an activity that jiggled the lovely rigid cock up and down. Fiona realized she was staring hard at it, her mouth hanging open, as she waited for Pol to introduce them.

  “You’ve already met,” he said, as though reading her mind.

  She tried to think of something witty and fun to say but only a strangled noise came out. This was no time for jokes.

  Fiona’s hand moved of its own accord to rest lightly on the top of his offered cock. “How do you do?” she breathed.

  He laughed again, a sound that rumbled through the room and through her body. “How do you? Take it in your mouth, Fiona.”

  The breath went out of her, and her mind darkened with dizziness. Good thing she needed to get on her knees, because she didn’t think she could stand any longer.

  The warm pile of her clothes cushioned her legs as she sank down in front of Pol, her eyes on that gorgeous cock.

  Not too fast, she told herself. It’s like a fabulous piece of chocolate—you start out with a little taste, a little nibble to sate your craving and tempt yourself at the same time, and then you really dig in.

  Savor this.

  Fiona leaned forward slightly as Pol stepped close to her. He held his jeans by the waistband, the opening hanging loose, the belt dragging the fabric to either side. His cock had to be eleven inches to a foot long—there were measuring tools in the pottery room, maybe she should…

  Later. After she’d enjoyed it for a while. His hair was so black, shining in the light, his cock smelling a little like dust and velvet. She nuzzled the tip and was rewarded by his smooth skin bumping her nose.

  “Mmm,” he said appreciatively.

  She ran the tip of her nose around him playfully then put out her tongue and touched it to his slit. His knuckles went white where he clutched the fabric of the jeans, sinews in his forearms moving.

  Fiona wriggled her tongue over his slit some more, tasting the bead of moisture that had welled up at her touch. She dragged her to
ngue around his flange, rubbing the small line of flesh under the tip.

  “Baby, what are you doing to me?” he said, his voice roughening.

  “Having fun,” Fiona said. She sucked his tip into her mouth then pushed it out again right away.

  “Cruel woman.”

  “I’m the one obeying you,” she pointed out. Before he could answer, she drew his cock all the way into her mouth.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. He unballed one fist and dragged his fingers through her hair.

  Fiona grasped his buttocks, sinking her fingers into his skin, and went to work on his cock.

  She drew back, letting it fall out of her mouth, blowing a little on it. She had no idea where this playful, sex-crazed woman inside her had come from. Sex to her had always been more or less an obligation to please a man so she wouldn’t be alone.

  Pathetic. It wasn’t like she hadn’t wanted sex and sexual pleasure, but her friends had always told her that sex was what you had to do to keep men happy. They weren’t good enough at it to keep you happy, so you either had to keep yourself happy or find a girlfriend who knew how to.

  Because Fiona had been too self-conscious to touch herself, and never had any interest in other women, she’d assumed that sex was all right but nothing special.

  Cas had begun teaching her that sexual pleasure could be the most outstanding thing on the planet, and Pol was busy hammering the point home. Cas, with his warm eyes and rare smile, was already stealing her heart.

  His brother Pol was a lover of a different kind. Demanding, for one thing.

  “Harder.” His hand twisted in her hair.

  She obeyed. She slid his cock back into her mouth and rolled her tongue all over it while she sucked. He tasted so good, warm and salty and male. Her entire body tingled with the maleness of him.

  “Ah, Fiona.” The words dragged out of him, a man obviously happy with what she was doing. He rocked slightly on his heels, pressing himself deeper into her mouth.

  She loved every different taste of him. The rough texture and spicy taste of the base of him, the smooth, honey-sweetness of his tip, the rigid and satin taste of his flange. She liked licking his balls too, she discovered, smooth skin covered with wiry hair.