Planetary Passions 6: Double Trouble (Gemini) Read online

  His balls rode high and tight, round and almost as hard as his cock. Experimentally she drew one into her mouth and lightly grazed it with her teeth.

  “Damn.”

  “Do you like that?” she asked.

  “Do I like it?” He pushed her back toward the base of his cock. “What is that telling you?”

  “You like it.” She laughed in delight. How pleasing it was to please a man who really liked to be pleased. She laughed again at her tongue-twisting thoughts.

  Fiona teased and licked and nibbled at his balls a little longer, then went back to the satisfying feast of his cock.

  Pol had begun their encounter in control, but by the way his hands alternately flexed and closed and tugged at her hair or pulled her farther onto him, he had left control behind.

  “Fiona, sweet goddess.”

  She licked him harder, nibbling the sensitive underside of his tip. The twins had it fixed in their heads that she was a goddess who’d used her special magic to rescue them. They were completely wrong, but it was rather fun to be an object of fascination and desire.

  “I’m going to come,” he moaned.

  His strong hands tightened in her hair, holding her to him while he rocked into her mouth. Fiona had never swallowed a man down before and had no clue what to expect.

  Pol growled low in his throat, his hips moving, and then smooth, thick liquid filled her mouth. She ran her tongue through it and swallowed, liking the strange new taste.

  The seed of a demigod. Plain Fiona had come a long way.

  Pol hauled her to her feet and gathered her close. His body shuddered and he buried his face in her neck. The feel of his t-shirt and still-open jeans on her bare skin excited her, and she kissed him.

  He held her hard, kissing her back, the taste of his seed and his tongue mixing together into a heady cocktail.

  “Fiona,” he whispered. “Thank you.” He kissed her again, his tongue a rough weight in her mouth.

  “Thank you,” he repeated, and she had the feeling that his thanks went beyond her pleasuring him. “Thank you, sweet Fiona.”

  Chapter Seven

  How can they leave a trail ten feet wide, Selena fumed, and then disappear?

  It had been easy to trace Cas and Pol through the previous day and night—everyone remembered the tall, unbelievably handsome twins and their devilish smiles.

  Probably charming their way into getting everyone to do exactly what they want.

  While she could respect getting people to obey, she couldn’t respect the method. Pain was so much more effective.

  At least, it used to be. The twins must retain some of their powers, because they kept eluding Selena, always having just left a place she entered. She would get turned around on the back streets and the people there would remember the twins but not quite which direction they went.

  It was enough to drive a demon demigoddess crazy.

  Finally, after they’d left the last restaurant in the wee hours of the morning, she hadn’t been able to trace them. She’d returned to her slave in his tiny apartment and whipped him senseless to relieve her pique.

  In the morning, he still lay groaning on the floor. She stepped over him on the way out, not bothering to yank him to his feet. She didn’t need him anymore anyway.

  Angry and hungry, Selena approached a stand selling the tasty beverage called coffee. It pleased her that she could make the vendor give her the coffee without payment simply by glaring at him. She hadn’t lost her touch entirely.

  She felt stronger this morning, as though her powers were slowly returning. Maybe it was all the fucking she’d done with the peasant man. He was used up though. She’d have to find another one.

  That the twins still eluded her made her boil with rage. She couldn’t follow them—they’d obviously left magic behind to confuse her—so she needed to get one step ahead of them.

  How, she didn’t know.

  She needed to find the damn jar and try to get them back into it. This time, she’d make sure the spell worked, and they’d bury themselves deep in her forever.

  Mmm, what a lovely thought. Pol and Cas huge and hard inside her and never able to get out. Never able to release although she would release and grow excited as many times as she wanted.

  She looked over the magazines and newspapers at a stand next to the coffee vendor’s. Politics of the time, salacious gossip about people she’d never heard of. Boring, boring, boring.

  Her attention was arrested by a magazine in the corner, dog-eared and forlorn, like no one wanted it. But on the cover, bold as could be, was a picture of her jar.

  She pointed a red talon at it. “Give me that.”

  “The archaeology magazine?” the vendor looked bewildered. “You don’t look the type.”

  Selena grabbed the man’s shirtfront and jerked him down to his glossy copies of nude and sports magazines. “I said, give it to me.”

  Coughing, the vendor grabbed the magazine, shoved it at her and backed to the farthest corner of his stall. Ignoring him, Selena walked away, flipping through the magazine until she found the article she wanted.

  There was the jar, chipped and half-finished. But those men were Cas and Pol, naked and beautiful, and there was herself, beautiful too, hanging between them. Their cocks were half buried in her.

  Should have been, anyway.

  She skimmed the article, her brain already adapted to twenty-first century Greek. What she read raised her anger to blazing fury.

  Selena slammed the magazine closed, holding the place with her finger. She waited until one of the taxis sped toward her, then she stepped out in front of it.

  It screeched to a halt as though stopped by a giant force. The driver leaned out of the window, staring at her with round eyes, his face white.

  Selena jerked open the passenger door and climbed in beside him. “Do you know where this is?”

  She opened the magazine and jammed her pointed nail at the paragraph that told her the jar was being studied by a postdoc fellow at the American School of Classical Studies in Athens.

  “It’s in the Kolonaki District,” the man stammered.

  “Good. Take me there. Now.”

  The driver gulped, jammed his foot to the floor and swerved the vehicle out into traffic.

  * * * * *

  Fiona rose in her usual morning fog, stumbled to the showers with her towel and toothbrush, mumbled good morning to the other women in the bathroom, and stepped under the lukewarm water to wash her hair.

  When the slap of shampoo woke her up, she froze, suds dripping down her face, as she remembered.

  She had freed two demigods, chased them across Athens, let them fondle her, then went with them one at a time to pleasure and be pleasured by them.

  She’d done it with twins.

  Twins who still had Hans Jorgensen’s clothes and credit cards and the gods only knew what they’d get up to today.

  Fiona hurried through her ablutions, zipped a towel over her skin and pulled her clothes over her still-damp body. She skimmed a toothbrush over her teeth then dashed out of the dorm to make her way to the Agora.

  When she got to the dig, it teemed with people. They all seemed to congregate on the northwest side, standing in the stance that Fiona had come to recognize as archaeologists excited, hands on hips or fingers to chins, all staring quietly down at the same spot as though hoping and not wanting to hope that here was a great find.

  In the front of the group was Cas and Pol and Hans Jorgensen. Fiona pushed her way through, breathing “excuse me” half a dozen times before she got through bodies to the front of the crowd.

  Pol looked her way and gave her a wink. Her blush return and flared even more when Cas sent her a slow smile.

  Hans and the rest of the archaeologists paid no attention. Hans was scraping his blond hair back with agitated hands as he stared at the lump of stone that had been revealed in the earth.

  He glanced at Fiona and his eyes widened. “Fiona, do you know wh
at they have done?”

  Fiona flinched, expecting him to chastise her for allowing them to steal his credit cards, but Hans went on before she could interrupt.

  “They have found a stoa. One not known of before. They brought me to it—it will make my career if it is true what they say.”

  “They minted coin here,” Cas said. “There is a room and coins still there. Worth much money to you, I imagine.”

  Hans stared at him as though he’d grown three heads. “Money? I suppose. But a previously unknown stoa… Thank you, my good friends. I must mark the spot and make a sketch…” He squatted in the dirt and started examining the ground minutely as though forgetting that anyone else was nearby.

  The others either congratulated him and moved off to their own jobs or stayed to help him. Fiona glanced at Hans’ big body and rapt face then switched her gaze to the twins, who looked back at her, grinning.

  She glared at them, turned around and walked away.

  If she thought they were going to follow her and apologize, she was wrong. She stomped most of the way through the Agora before she realized they’d stayed with Hans.

  “Men,” she said through clenched teeth, not sure why she was angry at the whole sex.

  “I thought you were more interested in pottery than spectacular finds,” Joan Whittington said in passing.

  “I am.” Fiona made her way back to the pottery room before Joan could continue. Let the woman think she was jealous of Hans. She had too much going on to worry about it.

  She had come here last night to research the problem of the jar and why Pol and Cas remained depicted on it while the demigoddess was not. And then Pol had come in telling her to take off her clothes and had started unzipping his jeans.

  The memory of the smooth taste of his come made her heat up again, her blood firing in her veins.

  Research, she told herself. Focus on research.

  She pulled out books and journals she’d collected on ancient Greek pottery and concentrated on those of the fifth century B.C.E., the height of the Athenian empire and the time of Pericles. She’d already combed these books for information on jars similar to her own and found little, but she might have missed something.

  She’d have to go to the school and look through their library for legends of Castor and Pollux and Gemini. Greek gods usually had more than one story told about them, more than one facet.

  Zeus, for example, though he was the king of the gods, had other aspects that were worshiped at different times. In the temple in the Agora, Zeus was worshiped in his aspect as counselor, which made sense because the senate and law courts had met nearby.

  Castor and Pollux might appear in some lore and legends that were unknown in the present day. Fiona was historian enough to know that what archaeologists knew of the past was the tip of the iceberg and that so much was forever lost. Somewhere there must be the story of the jar and the magic that went along with it.

  Fiona picked out the books that might be most helpful and hoisted them into her backpack. She trotted back down to the dig, where Hans was sketching the area and Cas and Pol were holding forth on what he would find.

  Cas and Pol were two fabulously built men. With the sun on their black hair, their skin bronzed and clothes stretched over tight bodies, they could easily make next year’s He-Men of Archaeology calendar.

  When they caught sight of her, they broke off and sauntered toward her. Her mouth went dry as they both sent her looks of hot promise, both of them reminding her of what they’d done in secret last night. Sheesh, when had her life become so complicated?

  They moved to either side of her, Cas on the right, Pol on the left, their body heat enclosing hers.

  Pol touched the backpack slung over her shoulder. “You are going somewhere?”

  “Yes, to the library.”

  She expected them to tell her they would accompany her and perhaps stop off in a taverna for wine and more touching, but Cas said, “We will stay here and help Hans.”

  “What did you tell him? How did you get him to believe you knew of a completely new and undisturbed find?”

  “I said that we had been here for a dig many years ago,” Cas answered. “That they had uncovered a little of the new stoa, but had not been able to—what is the word for your magic?—excavate it.”

  “And he believed that?”

  “Not at first,” Pol said. “Not until we showed him where the first stone was. Then he did not care how we had found it. The prospect of a few stones excited him more than the thousands of coins that lie beneath it.”

  Fiona pressed a hand to her forehead. “This is what you meant when you said you’d pay him back.”

  “Yes,” Cas answered. “There are many more coins here than what a meal and wine and transport cost us yesterday.”

  “True, but…” She bit her lip. “You did tell him about the credit card business, right?”

  “We did,” Pol said, warm amusement in his eyes. “After we showed him the stoa. He said not to bother about it, we had more than paid him back.”

  She looked back and forth between them, sensing the smugness radiating from both. “I can’t believe you two.”

  “Why not?” Cas’ mouth quirked, but his gaze moved over Fiona like a touch. “We have made Hans Jorgensen very, very happy. He said he owed us his life, which of course we will not take. It is quite dangerous to say that to a demigod.”

  “I’ll be certain and remind him,” she said faintly.

  “We are the demigods of good times,” Pol said, his gaze and smile as devastating as his brother’s. “Not wrathful or vengeful. But speaking of gods of good times, I wonder why Dionysus has not tried to find us. We have gone to the places he would linger and have seen nothing of him.”

  “There is a temple to Athena above us,” Cas said, his gaze moving to the Parthenon on the flat hill.

  Streams of tourists in many-colored shirts streamed up the hill toward the temple, but even with that modernity, the pillars standing on the Acropolis, the ancientness of it, overwhelmed tourists in t-shirts with cell-phones and cameras.

  “But they are abandoned and ruined,” Cas went on, a note of sadness entering his voice. “The gods no longer come here to smell the burned offerings or hear the prayers of their people. They’ve gone.”

  “They couldn’t have gone completely,” Pol argued. “They loved this land and the people in it.”

  Cas gave him a somber look. “I do not feel them here. There are new religions and new beliefs, and the gods have been forgotten.”

  Pol looked as though he wanted to argue further, but Fiona broke in. “Cas is right. Everyone is fascinated by the gods, but they don’t believe in them any longer. There are still people who call on them, but very few.”

  Cas turned his head to look over the Agora, the sun glistening on his dark hair, looking very much a god. The sorrow of his loss touched her, making her heart sting with grief for him.

  “Well, I am going to find out what happened to you,” she announced. “Why you were trapped in oblivion and if there’s any danger of you going back.”

  Both swung to her, their gazes glittering. The cords in Pol’s neck tightened. “What do you mean? There is danger of us returning to—to nothingness?”

  “I don’t know. The picture changed and the demigoddess disappeared, but you did not. I don’t know whether that means she died or you are only partially free, or if it means nothing. That’s why I’m going to the library, to find out and to try to free you all the way if you aren’t.”

  The twins glanced at one another. She saw a ripple of uneasiness between them, fear that they did not want to admit.

  “Fiona,” Cas said. His eyes were dark as he softly touched her face. “You are good to use your magic to help us. I do not fully understand why you do this, but we are grateful.”

  Fiona shrugged, trying to be offhand, but her throat tightened.

  If she were to lose Pol and Cas to whatever magic had trapped them before, she wou
ld be more than sorry. She’d known them only a little longer than twenty-four hours, but they had awakened in her something no other man—or men—had.

  Besides, she liked them. They were troublemakers, that was apparent, but they bore no animosity to anyone.

  “I hope I can help,” she said, not knowing how to respond. “I’ll do my best.”

  Pol growled. “If the gods would show their faces, we could get some answers from them. Apollo has a temple in the Agora, so do Zeus and Athena. People may have abandoned them, but they have abandoned their places as well.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to talk to gods, but I do know how to talk to librarians.” Fiona held up her hands, palm outward. “You will stay here, right?”

  Pol exchanged another glance with Cas, which worried her, but his voice was perfectly steady when he answered. “Of course. We will help Hans. He seems personable. And when you return…”

  He lowered his left eyelid in a wink. Behind him, Cas sent her a knowing smile. We’ll play when we’re all together, he seemed to say, but when you and I are alone…

  Fiona hastily turned on her heel and left them before she succumbed to the heady visions in her head and dragged them both of to her room to see what they had in mind.

  * * * * *

  The library yielded only a few interesting pieces of information. There were many versions of the story of Pol grieving for Cas’ death and sharing his immortality until Zeus made them both immortal.

  She read that they’d had adventures with Jason and the Argonauts—it took little stretch of the imagination to picture them sailing from port to port, fighting monsters, having women and enjoying every moment of it.

  Castor was supposed to be an excellent horseman, Pol a boxer, which also went with the twins she knew. A person had to have quiet strength and patience to do well with horses, and boxers needed a combination of aggression and cunning. Pollux had apparently been able to kill with his boxing skills.

  Some stories said that they hatched from the same egg, some from two eggs, some that they had different fathers, Leda’s mortal husband and Zeus.

  All the stories agreed that they were identical, powerful, fun-loving and close. The demigods of good times, they called themselves.