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But even beyondthat, his body pulsed inside mine. It was as if his magic throbbed with the rhythm of his body, so that each time he plunged deep inside me the magic throbbed harder, and vibrated faster.
I took the chance Mistral had given me to say, “Abeloec, are you making your magic pulse in time to your lovemaking?”
His voice came tight with concentration. “Yes.”
I started to say, Oh, Goddess, but Mistral’s mouth found mine again, and I got only as far as, “Oh, God — ”
Mistral thrust his tongue so deep and hard into my mouth that it was like oral sex when the man is too big for comfort. If you fight it, it hurts, but if you relax, sometimes, you can do it. You can let the man have his way with your mouth without breaking your jaw. I’d never had anyone kiss me like this, and even as I fought to let him do it, I thought about him being this forceful with other things, and the thought made me open wider to him, wider to them both.
They were both so skilled, but in such opposite ways that I wondered what it would be like to have their full attention one at a time. But there was no way to ask Mistral to wait, to give us room, because I could barely breathe with his tongue down my throat, let alone speak. I wanted to speak; I wanted to stop having to fight him to breathe. My jaw was aching hard enough to distract me from Abeloec’s amazing fucking. Mistral had crossed that line from feels good to fucking stop.
We hadn’t arranged a sign that would let him know I wanted him to stop. When you can’t speak, you usually have some prearranged way to tap out. I started pushing at his shoulders, pushing like I meant it. I wasn’t as strong as a full-blooded sidhe, but I had once put my hand through a car door to scare away some would-be muggers, if that’s an indication. I had bloodied my hand, but not broken it. So I pushed, and he pushed back.
He had his mouth so far inside mine that I couldn’t even bite him. I was choking, and he didn’t care.
I could feel the orgasm beginning to build. I did not want Abeloec’s good work spoiled by the fact that I was choking.
Nails could be used for pleasure, or to make a point. I set my nails in the firm flesh of Mistral’s neck and dug them in. I carved bloody furrows in his skin. He jerked back from me, and seeing the rage on his face, again, I was glad we weren’t alone.
“When I say stop, you stop,” I said. And I realized that I was angry, too.
“You didn’t say stop.”
“Because you made certain I couldn’t.”
“You said you liked pain.
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