"You don't get off me, boy, I'll use a zip tie on your ball sac."
Instead, he shifted next to Gen to nuzzle Lyda's breast, then put his lips over it, began to suckle. Lyda's other breast was right in front of Gen. Noah's hand was on her back, exerting a slight pressure, an encouraging and clear message.
It was a sweet pleasure, hearing their Mistress sigh as they each suckled a nipple. Lyda stroked them both, making a little hum as they savored the taste of her, of having their Mistress beneath them. Still in control, but giving them the rare gift of her trust.
As Gen shifted to her throat, tasting her pulse, Noah was moving down Lyda's body. The two of them were devouring her, and Lyda was letting them.
Noah kissed his way over Lyda's abdomen, down her side, working his way to her thighs. Gen lifted up over her, hands braced on either side of Lyda's shoulders. When Lyda's lips parted, eyes glazing, a glance back showed Noah now had his mouth between her legs. A faint hum told Gen he'd engaged that blissful tongue stud.
Gen bent down and covered Lyda's mouth with hers, tongue delving deep. Endless. How many times had they come tonight? Shouldn't they all be exhausted now? But no, it was as if they wanted to explore how many different ways they could bring one another pleasure, how many different crevices and expanses of flesh they could taste with tongue and lips. Lyda broke the kiss, but only so she could push Gen further up, and latch onto her breast anew, take a hard pull as Noah worked between his Mistress's legs. Gen gasped, tightening her fingers in Lyda's hair, looking back to watch. He'd be worrying her clit between her teeth, plunging his tongue deep between those wet folds. He had his hands beneath Lyda's thighs, and her ankles were locked over his back.
Gen slid an exploratory hand down, played between Noah's lips and tongue, over Lyda's clit and labia. The woman nipped the underside of her breast, a rebuke, but one that didn't stop Gen from continuing to flick at her clit, loving the jerks of her hips, her reaction to the jolts of sensation.
"Are you creaming for us, Mistress?" she whispered, looking down to meet Lyda's silver eyes. The response she got was being pulled down for another hard kiss, Lyda gripping her nape as Noah took her over the edge to a moaning, twisting, tornado climax, her hands digging into Gen as it happened. Noah gripped her spread thighs, his knuckles pressing into Gen's legs as he held Lyda still to maximize her pleasure.
When Lyda rolled down that peak, they were all breathing hard. Gen thought it was all incredible, but this last time had been special. Three people enjoying one another, the reins tangled in all their hands, free form, incredibly pleasurable.
Noah sat back on his heels, looking down at both of them. Gen had shifted to her hip, curled up against Lyda's side, held in her arm span. Reaching out, Gen slid a hand down his side
. Noah caught it, lifted her knuckles to his mouth. When she brought them back to herself, she could smell Lyda's musk from his lips. Lyda's hand tightened in her hair then.
"He handled the climax, you handle the cleanup, rabbit. You wanted to know how wet I was for you. Go find out up close and personal."
Noah moved out of the way and Gen was pushed between Lyda's legs. She did exactly as bade, tenderly licking the crevices, collecting the climax, savoring the taste and scent. Lyda made a pleased murmur. When Gen lifted her head, she saw Noah was stretched out behind Lyda, his head propped on his fist again while Lyda had her head on his thigh, watching Gen as Noah stroked her hair with his other hand. She looked sleepy, their Mistress.
"Time for bed," Lyda said, confirming it. Noah eased her head to the floor and rose. He switched off the lamp and then, to Gen's surprise--and maybe Lyda's--he bent and picked Lyda up, carrying her to the bed. Lyda linked her arms around his neck, and held when he lowered her there. He stayed close, not pulling back until she brushed a kiss over his mouth and let him go.
"Gen," she said. "Come to me."
Gen slid into Lyda's embrace. Then, another surprise, Lyda brought Noah into the mix. He slid in behind Lyda, the two of them holding onto their Mistress in a new tangle of limbs, mouths close enough to brush lips, breath warm against flesh.
"Sleep," Lyda ordered. "Everyone. I won't be able to function tomorrow if I've spent the night being fucked to death. Or fucking my pets to death."
Too late. Gen felt like a limp noodle. She hoped feeling returned to her extremities soon. Aspirin was going to be in order for muscles that hadn't been used since...ever.
"Noah." Lyda's profile was a silhouette in the darkened bedroom as she looked behind her. "You'll clean up that mess in my guest house tomorrow. And that note doesn't exist. If you forget that, I'll take a strip off your hide."
"Yes Mistress."
Quiet descended. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness thrown by the nightlight by the dresser, Gen could tell Noah was staring into the darkness over Lyda's head with a look she didn't like at all.
Gen curved her hand over his forearm, draped over Lyda's side. A little bite with her nails attracted his attention. "Stay with us," she mouthed. She meant all of it. Not just his person, but everything, his mind, his heart...his soul.
A look of resignation crossed his face, but he nodded. "I want to," he murmured. "But it's not about what I want."
Lyda said nothing, her eyes closed. But her hand tightened on Gen's, a silent message.
Leave it alone. For now.
Chapter Thirteen
Gen had never been to Gatlinburg. As they wound along the scenic highway that offered panoramic views of the Great Smoky Mountains, Gen coaxed them into stopping on the pull-off lanes more than once so she could gape and snap a few pictures with her phone, even though it wouldn't capture how awe-inspiring it was.
Then she saw a chainsaw carver who had rows of wooden bears set up on the roadside. "I want one," she pronounced. Noah grinned and Lyda rolled her eyes, but they stopped. And after a critical look at the craftsmanship, Lyda had bought a couple herself. She even talked to the artist about supplying wholesale to the nursery.
Gen earned a speculative look from Lyda when she decided against buying one, but the smallest bear offered was eighty dollars. It would cut too deeply into her vacation budget. She told them she'd decided having a picture of one was better and snapped a quick shot before getting back into the car.
They'd left Tampa before dawn. Lyda had taken the backseat, spreading out her paperwork and balancing her laptop on her knees. When she started muttering to herself in a way Gen recognized from Marguerite's adversarial relationship with her own accounting software, Gen began asking questions. Before long, the computer had been transferred to her lap and she was helping Lyda catch up with her books, to the woman's obvious relief.