The Harlequin

chapter sixteen

I LICKED THE water off him with the tip of my tongue. I drank water from the looseness of his body, licking water from the testicles where they hung so heavy and large. I licked and drank the water until his body lengthened and hardened. I couldn't reach the tip of him now, not without wrapping my hand around the base of him and lowering all that hardness toward my mouth. He made small noises for me, and when I gazed up his body, the eyes that looked back had changed to wolf amber. Sex was supposed to be about losing control, but all lycanthropes could never completely lose control—because to lose control for them meant to change shape. At least once a year some new lycanthrope lost control and cut up a lover during sex. Sometimes the lover survived, sometimes they didn't, sometimes they got to be furry, too.

I drove my mouth over him until my lips met my own hand. I used the hand to squeeze and pulse around him, but it also kept me from having to try to take all of him in my mouth. I could deep-throat, but it wasn't always the most comfortable position, not with someone Richard's size. I could raise the ardeur and do it, do it all, but…

I rose off his body, enough to talk. «I'd raise the ardeur and finish like this, but you're too strong. You keep me out except during intercourse.»

He looked down at me, and it was almost a look of pain. «I want you to do whatever you want to do.»

«Will you lower your shields and let me feed?»

«I'll try.»

I shook my head and squeezed him tight at the same time. It threw his head back, made his hands reach to empty air for something to hold on to. He liked to hold on to things when we did this. But his hands found only air, and he looked down at me with a shudder that ran up the length of his body. Just feeling him shudder in my hand brought a cry from me. «God, Richard, God!»

He reached down and grabbed my arms, pulled me up out of the water. I had to let go of him as he came out of the water with me in his arms. He threw me onto the marble around the tub edge. It was cold and hard, and I started to protest. Richard's fingers found my opening. He shoved his finger inside me, and just doing oral sex on him made me wet, but the water had kept me tight. Even one finger seemed big. He moved it in and out and around, and I cried out for him.

He put two fingers inside me, and he actually closed his eyes, concentrating, searching, until he found that spot, no bigger than a fifty-cent piece, that spot just inside and to the front of the opening. He found it, and flicked his fingers back and forth across it. There hadn't been enough foreplay for a full-blown G-spot orgasm, but it still felt good, so good. It made me spread my legs wider for him, made me angle my hips for him. He took that for the invitation it was, and drove his fingers inside me harder and faster, until I cried out for him again.

«You're wet,» he said, in a voice that was a little strangled with need.

I nodded, breathless.

He started to angle himself to enter me, but I put a hand on his chest. «Condom.»

«Shit,» he said, but he went to his knees and riffled through the pile of towels behind us. Condoms lived in the bathrooms and bedrooms of any place I was alone with the men. The pregnancy scare in November had made me unwilling to count on just the birth-control pill. He was cursing under his breath by the time he got the condom on, but he turned back to me, his body hard, eager. Just the sight of him like that, knowing what we were about to do, made things low in my body tighten. Small orgasms before he even entered me.

Even wet and eager, he had to work himself inside me. I writhed around him, just from the feel of him working his way inside. I gazed up at him, let my eyes see his face, the wolf eyes in his face as he fought himself, his arms supporting him above me, so that most of his body was above me, so that I could see him as he pushed his way into me.

«Feed, Anita, feed, please.»

A please like that usually meant that a man was close. I called the ardeur to life. I called it, like coaxing a spark to life, to flame, to burn. The power spilled over me, through me, and into him. The ardeur poured over us in a warm wash of power. It opened my body to him so that he could push in and out of me. I could watch him in the mirrored walls around us, his body above mine, pushing in and out, in and out. He knew with the ardeur on us he didn't have to be careful, and he wasn't. He pushed all that length into me as hard and fast as he could. He grabbed my hips, lifted my lower body off the marble, held me in his big hands as he pounded himself into me, so hard and fast that our bodies made a wet, thudding noise. The end of him found the end of me, so that each stroke hit as far into my body as it could, and still he came in and in, so hard, so fast, he was almost a blur in the mirrors. He wasn't human, and he had speed and strength that wasn't human. Once he'd worried that he'd hurt me, but we'd found that I wasn't human-fragile anymore. We'd found that Richard could be as rough as he wanted, and he wouldn't break me. He was that rough now, then he found a new speed, a new hardness. It was as if he'd always been holding back, and I just hadn't known it. Faster, harder, until he was a blur in the mirrors, pounding himself inside me, until I cried out, orgasming around him, body spasming. I felt his body spasm inside me, felt his body buck against mine. All movement ceased, his head flung backward, eyes closing. His fingers dug into my ass, holding us both in that moment, as his body spasmed and went inside mine, with him buried as deeply inside my body as was possible to be. In that frozen moment, as our bodies rode each other, the ardeur fed. I fed. I fed on Richard's energy, fed on the part of him that was wolf, and human. I fed on all of him, took in every last delicious inch of his power, as I took in every last delicious inch of his body. When he let himself go like this, he gave so much energy.

He lowered me back to the edge of the marble tub. He slid out of me, and even that made me writhe. He collapsed onto his side, because there wasn't enough room for his shoulders otherwise. He lay gasping with his head near my waist. I managed to move my hand enough to touch his hair, but that was all I could manage. My pulse was still thundering in my ears.

He found his voice first. «Did I hurt you?»

I started to say no, but the endorphins were fading around the edges. There was already an ache beginning between my legs. To Micah I would have said, A little, but to Richard I said, «No.» He had more issues than Micah did.

I felt his hand slide clumsily over my thigh, as if he couldn't quite make his hand work just yet. He brushed between my legs. I said in a voice that was half-laughing, «Not again, not yet.»

He raised his hand so I could see that he had blood on his fingertips. «Did I hurt you?» His voice sounded surer of itself and less post-coital.

«Yes, and no,» I said.

He managed to raise himself up on one elbow. «You're bleeding, Anita. I hurt you.»

I looked at his fingertips. «A little, but it's a good hurt. I'll remember what we did with every ache.»

His face closed down, and he stared at the blood on his fingertips as if it were an accusation.

«Richard, it was wonderful, amazing. I didn't know you'd been holding so much of yourself back.»

«I should have kept holding back.»

I touched his shoulder. «Richard, don't do this. Don't make it bad when it was good.»

«You're bleeding, Anita. I fucked you so hard you're bleeding.»

I thought of one thing to say, but wasn't sure if it would make things better or worse.

He moved away from me to sit on the edge of the tub with his legs dangling over the side. He washed the blood away.

«I'll be all right, Richard, honest.»

«You can't know that,» he said.

I rose, and I ached, deep inside my body. Maybe more than normal. I rose enough to see the blood on the marble, but there wasn't much of it. «If this is all the blood, then I'll be fine.»

«Anita, you've never bled after sex before.»

Truth time; I prayed that it was the right choice. «Yeah, I have.»

He looked at me, frowning. «No, you haven't.»

«Yeah, I have, just not with you.»

He started to say, «Who… Micah?» He said the word like he wasn't happy to say it.

«Yes.»

«This much blood?» he asked.

I nodded and sat up; now that the endorphins were leaving at a rapid rate, the marble felt cold. I held my hand out to him. «Help me back into the tub.»

He took my hand almost automatically, as if he did it because it was there more than because he wanted to. He helped me slide back into the tub. I made a small pain noise. I was hurt, no doubt about that, but I wasn't broken. I'd had this hurt before with Micah. I didn't want it this rough every night, but I could do it, and when it was the right time, it was amazing.

«Has he hurt you this badly before?»

«It isn't hurt the way you say it, Richard. I'm not hurt, I hurt; it's not the same thing.»

«I don't see the difference.»

I lay back in the water, easing into it, letting the abused parts of my anatomy relax a little at a time. Strangely, the ache inside me was the only ache. The muscle soreness was gone, washed away on a wave of sex and the ardeur. Good for that.

«I wanted to fuck you, Anita. I wanted to fuck you as hard and fast as I could, and I did.»

«Didn't it feel wonderful?» I asked.

He nodded. «It did, but if I hurt you, then think what I could do to someone who doesn't have vampire marks to make them harder to hurt. Think what I could do to a human woman.»

I settled back into the water enough to wet all my hair, then sat up so I could look at him. He looked so sad, lost. «I've heard the stories, Richard. Broken pelvises, crushed organs, women and men who needed surgery to put themselves back together.»

«When we're with humans we always have to be careful of them.»

«So I've been told.»

«I didn't know if you could take this, Anita. I didn't know if I would break you. The thought that I might fuck you until I pushed my way into parts of your body that should never be touched, excited me. I didn't want to do it, but the possibility of it excited the hell out of me. How sick is that?»

I blinked at him, not sure what to say. «I'm not sure it's sick at all. You didn't do it. You just thought about it. The thought excited you, but you didn't rip me apart to make it come true. I think maybe it's like a lot of violent fantasies: if the reality happened, it wouldn't be sexy at all, but the thought of it, a violent thought in the middle of sex, can drive the sex to the next level.»

«Weren't you afraid of me?»

«No.»

«Why not?»

«I trusted you not to hurt me,» I said.

He took off the condom and said, «There's blood on the condom.»

«I'm not hurt, Richard, or at least no more than I wanted to be.» Truthfully, maybe I was more hurt than I wanted to be. A pleasant ache between the legs was fine, but I was starting to hurt somewhere close to my belly button. That usually meant you'd overdone it. But I couldn't say that to Richard.

He looked at me. «You flinched just now.»

I closed my eyes and floated back in the water. «I don't know what you're talking about,» I said.

I felt the water move, knew he'd gotten in the tub. I sat up, but he was already standing over me. There was something menacing about the way he loomed over me. Most of the time I could ignore how physically large he was, in every way, but sometimes, like now, he made me see it. He wasn't trying to be intimidating, or I didn't think he was. Not on purpose, anyway.

That otherworldly energy began to flow off him as if the water were getting reheated. I moved so I was sitting against the side of the tub. Standing up wouldn't help; he'd still loom over me. Besides, my stomach, or rather lower things, were beginning to cramp. I wasn't entirely certain I could stand up without bending over. That wouldn't help the situation. Was I hurt? Was I really hurt? Not a question I wanted to have to ask.

«You're hurt, really hurt, aren't you?»

His question was a little too close to what I'd just thought. We could accidentally share thoughts and feelings. I fought to put the shields back in place. Sex can bring them crashing down.

He knelt in the water, putting an arm on either side of me. He leaned in, the heat of his power beating against my body. It made things low in my body tense, and that hurt. I fought not to make little pain sounds. I managed not to, but Richard put his face against the side of mine and whispered, «Are you hurt?»

«Please, Richard.» I whispered it.

«Are… you… hurt?» His power pulsed through me, and this time I made a small sound, but not a good one.

«You're going to raise my wolf if you don't control your power better.» I said it through gritted teeth. One, I was hurting; two, I was getting angry.

He leaned in against my face and drew a deep breath. He was smelling my skin. His power was like a warm, wet heat pushing against me. I was shielding as hard as I could against him, his power, all of it. I thought of rock, stone walls to hide behind and put them in his metaphysical way.

He spoke against my cheek, his breath hot on my skin. «Pain has a smell to it, did you know that?»

«No. Yes.» I'd smelled it myself once, twice, when the beast was first prowling around inside me.

«Are… you… hurt?» He said each word, slowly, carefully, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke.

Another cramp hit me, and I fought not to bend over my stomach. I fought to sit in the water, with him pressed against me, and not react. He'd implied he could smell I was hurt. Most lycanthropes can smell a lie. I said the only thing I could say: «Yes.»

He kissed my cheek and said, «Thank you.» Then he stood up and climbed out of the tub. He reached for one of the towels in the pile that always seemed to be in the bathroom.

«Where are you going?» I asked, though frankly I was ready for him to go.

«Away from you,» he said.

I let myself fold over the next cramp. I didn't fight that it hurt. He wanted to be a bastard, fine. When I looked up again, he had the towel wrapped around his waist. He'd swallowed all that otherworldly energy, as if when he covered his nakedness, he'd covered more than just his body.

«I'll send for a doctor.»

«No, not yet.»

«Why not yet?»

«Because it may pass.»

He frowned at me. «You sound like you've done this before.»

«I've had cramping before—not this bad, truthfully—but it faded.»

«Micah.» He said the name like it was a curse.

«Yes.» I was tired of protecting Richard's ego. Frankly, in that moment, I was tired of Richard.

«He always gets there before I do.»

«There isn't a single thing that Micah got to do that you didn't have the chance to do first.»

«My fault again,» he said.

«Your choices,» I said. I couldn't keep the strain out of my voice. Fine, let him know how much I was hurting.

«I love that,» he said.

I frowned up at him, my hands pressed over my abdomen. «What?»

«That sound in your voice, I love it. The last time I heard it was in Raina's voice.»

I frowned harder. «What are you talking about?»

«You know that she was a sexual sadist, and God knows she was, but she also liked pain. She liked rough sex from both sides; dishing it out and being the dish.»

I couldn't frown harder so I said, «I actually did know that. I have some of her memories, remember.»

«That's right, you carry her munin, her ghostly memory.»

The munin were the ancestral memories of the werewolves. When a wolf died, they ate a little bit of the deceased and made them a permanent group memory. For real, not just ritual—though most werewolves couldn't «talk» as directly as I could with Raina's munin. It was supposed to enable you to access memories, get advice, but Raina had done her best to try to possess me for real. I had almost complete ability to keep her contained inside me. She wasn't like the beasts, or the ardeur. Raina was something I could keep caged. Using her powers, that was chancier.

«You used her to heal the cross burn in your hand. Maybe you could use her to heal yourself now?»

I looked at him. The cross-shaped burn on my hand was a shiny, permanent scar. Raina's ability to heal was something I had retained.

It had been one of the reasons that Richard had made her munin, instead of leaving her body to rot. She'd been a sexual sadist and tried to kill us both, but she had been powerful. So I could sometimes use her abilities to heal myself and others, but the cost was always high. I could cage her inside me, ignore her, but if I let her out, well, she demanded payment. Her payment was usually painful, or sexual, or both.

I shook my head. «I don't think that would be a good idea right now.»

«Have you ever seen memories of her and me together?»

«Some. I try to steer clear of them.»

«The last time I was able to do what we did today was with her.» He looked at me, his face almost peaceful, waiting.

«You miss her.»

«I miss some things about her. Remember, Anita, I was a virgin. I didn't understand how unusual what she was teaching me was.»

«Nothing to compare it to,» I said.

«Exactly.»

«There are other sexual positions where you can be as rough as you want, and I won't hurt this much afterward, Richard. Part of it is that you don't do it this rough during the ardeur. The ardeur steals my ability to guard myself.»

«Don't you understand, Anita? I hate, and I love, that I hurt you. I love the sound of strain in your voice. I love the thought that my body did this to you. That just flat does it for me. That I was so big, so powerful, so violent, that you're hurt inside. You're right, if I hurt you enough for hospitals, it wouldn't be fun. That I wouldn't enjoy. Raina tried to get me to enjoy that level, but for that she had to turn to Gabriel.»

Gabriel had been in charge of the local wereleopards before I had to kill him. He'd being trying to rape and kill me, on film, at the time. Raina had been offstage urging him on. They'd made a lovely couple, in that lower-circle-of-hell sort of way. I'd sent them to hell together on the same night; talk about a double date.

«Yeah, Gabriel liked it serial-killer bad.»

«So did Raina,» Richard said, «though not her body, not for the worst of it.»

«I'm told a good dominant in the bondage and submission scene never asks of their sub what they aren't willing to do to their own body.»

«That's the rule,» Richard said, «but we both know that Raina wasn't a good dominant.»

«No,» I said, «she wasn't.»

«The cramping easing?» He made it a question.

«Yeah, how did you know?»

«Your face is smoothing out. You're not clutching as much at your stomach. And I watched Raina work through the same kind of pain, a lot. She said one of the things she liked about me was that I could be as rough as she wanted in exactly the way she wanted it.»

«For future reference, don't ever fuck me this hard in that position again, okay?»

He nodded. «What position do you like?»

I opened my mouth, closed it. Tried to think of how to phrase it. «I don't like it this rough on a nightly basis. After a session even close to this rough, it takes a day or two to feel like doing it again.»

«You'll have to feed the ardeur in a few hours.»

«There are gentler ways to feed it, Richard.»

«Not with Micah there isn't.»

«Well-endowed doesn't mean you can't be gentle, Richard.»

He nodded. «You're right.»

We stared at each other a moment. Something on his face made me say, «Raina really fucked you up, didn't she?»

He nodded. «Yes, she did. When she found out I enjoyed it rough, she wanted to make sure I'd never be able to get my needs met anywhere but with her. She meant to keep me, Anita, and if she hadn't tried to include Gabriel, I might have stayed with her.»

«No, you wouldn't have,» I said.

He gave me sad eyes. «How can you be so sure?»

«Because you're a good person, and if it hadn't been Gabriel it would have been someone or something else. Raina couldn't resist pushing people past their boundaries. She'd have kept pushing until she broke you; it's what she did.»

He nodded and took in a breath deep enough that it rocked his broad shoulders. «I'll clean up in the group showers.»

I wanted him to go, but… He'd tried so hard. He'd actually saved me from Marmee Noir. «You can clean up here.»

He shook his head. «No, I can't.»

The way he said it seemed odd. «Why not?»

«Because I like the idea I hurt you. I like it a lot. I don't trust myself not to hurt you again.»

«I'd say no, Richard. You respect no?»

He nodded. «But I also know the effect we have on each other. I don't trust myself not to try to seduce you again, so that I can push myself inside you while you're still bleeding from the first time.» He closed his eyes and a shudder ran down him from head to feet. I didn't think it was because he was repulsed by what he wanted to do; no, it was a shudder of anticipation. He was being honest with me, with himself, about what he wanted.

«I like it rough sometimes, Richard, but not that rough. Sorry.»

He nodded and gave me a sad smile. «Raina helped me enjoy intercourse too rough for anyone else. She made Nathaniel like pain in a way that most people wouldn't even survive.»

«I know.»

He shook his head. «No, you don't. You think you know, but you can't imagine it. I saw some of what she taught him to enjoy.»

«He doesn't talk like you ever saw him with her,» I said.

«Blindfolds, earplugs, nose plugs; you can't see, hear, or smell who's in the room. She invited me over once, tried to get me to help her, but torturing was never anything I liked. Raina found that disappointing.»

I swallowed and tried to think of something useful to say; nothing came to mind. «I don't know what to say to that.»

«I don't know why I told you that. Did I want to shock you? Did I want you to think less of Nathaniel? Less of me?» He shook his head and started for the door again.

I was ready for him to leave because I didn't know what to do with the mood he was in, and I really didn't want more sex. The hard cramps had passed, but I was hurting, and would be for a while.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. «Do you realize that most of the men in your bed are ones that she was with?»

«I hadn't thought about it.»

He turned and looked over his shoulder at me. «Jean-Claude was with her and Gabriel; it was the price she demanded from him. You know she made Jason a werewolf?»

«Yeah.» I'd actually shared that memory with Jason. She'd tied him to a bed and cut him up while she fucked him. She hadn't cared whether he lived or died. I'd been inside her head on the memory, and she hadn't cared. She really was serial-killer material, because her pleasure had meant more to her than Jason's life.

I got a whisper through my head. «Think harder, Anita.»

I shivered, and that made my lower body hurt. «Go, Richard, go, okay?»

«What's wrong?»

«I think I need not to think about her so hard.»

«She talked to you?»

I nodded.

«You think you have her under control, and maybe you do, but you might just think on this. Jean-Claude, me, Jason, Nathaniel, all of us were hers first. Maybe there's a reason you're attracted to her old lovers.» With that very unsettling thought, he left, closing the door behind him. I was happy that Richard was doing therapy; it was helping, honest. The trouble was, he seemed to want me to do therapy with him, and that I wasn't ready for.