Nathaniel moved off me, and I had a moment to try to focus and find Micah, before Jean-Claude slipped his fingers back inside me and brought me again, screaming, tearing at the sheets, grabbing for the headboard, grabbing for anything to hold on to.

I found a hand, and grabbed it, nails digging into the wrist as I writhed. When I could see again, I found it was Micah. He stared down at me with such a look on his face. He spoke, staring down at me. "Wait, Jean-Claude, wait until I'm in place."

I blinked up at him. "In place where?" My voice sounded as thick and un­focused as I felt.

He squeezed my hand tight, and said, "I want you to scream your orgasm with me in your mouth."

I said, "Okay," dien thought enough to say, "Can't deep-throat you from this angle."

He put his other hand against my cheek, and turned my face to the side, toward his body. "How about now?"

The way he asked made me smile, and staring at the front of his body so thick, so ready, stole the smile and made me whisper, "Let's try."

"That's our girl," he said. He put my hand on the headboard, wrapping my fingers around it. He did that when the body part closest to me wasn't somewhere he wanted nail marks.

Nathaniel came in from the other side; he took my free hand and put it against his hip. One telling me clearly, Don't mark me there; die other one saying, Please, do it.

Micah turned my face back to him. Nathaniel put my hand higher up his chest, so I could get a running start on his skin. He wouldn't be working at Guilty Pleasures this weekend, so I didn't have to worry about marking him.

Micah slipped inside my mouth; he pushed slowly, easing his way in, but he already tasted salty, bitter, and sweet all at once. He'd been enjoy­ing the show. That taste meant he wouldn't last as long as he might have, not a bad thing in oral sex with someone his size. Intercourse you want to last as long as possible; orally, duration is not always an asset. Two very different skill sets.

I moved forward to meet his careful thrust, and it was as if I'd given him permission. He began to tlirust into my moutii, hitting die back of my throat with every thrust, pulling out just before I would have to call uncle. I had a death grip on die headboard, and my hand was mosdy just steadying myself

against Nathaniel's side, not digging in. I was concentrating too hard on doing Micah to think about doing myself.

"Now," Micah said, and it took me a second to understand who he was talking to. Jean-Claude's fingers slid inside me, and he found that sweet spot, found it like he knew exactly where it was. He brought me with quick, sure flexing of his fingers, quick, quicker, quickest. I screamed around Micah's body, screamed and thrust my mouth harder and deeper onto him. I rode his body as I rode the orgasm, so that he suddenly didn't seem too big, too wide, but just right. I screamed and thrashed, and drove my nails into Nathaniel's hip, as if I were trying to dig my way through him.

I screamed, screamed, and screamed, screamed my pleasure, but it was a sound that would have been pain for most people. It wasn't pain; it was re­lease. I gave myself over to that moment, completely and utterly. Jean-Claude's hand inside me, Micah's body in my mouth, Nathaniel's flesh under my nails. I let go of the headboard, and had just enough of me left to mark higher up on Micah's back, while my other hand just kept digging at Nathaniel's hip and ass.

I heard voices, and knew vaguely that they weren't us. I heard Jean-Claude say, "Get out," but I was too far gone to look, or care.

He shoved more of his hand inside me in one quick motion, and that brought me, too. He'd worked me until my body would give orgasms like a gift, so wet, so excited, so thick, so tight, swollen with pleasure.

Micah's body was beginning to lose its rhythm, he tasted close. The apex of his thrust climbed down my throat, and back out; my own saliva poured down my mouth, because there was no time to swallow.

Jean-Claude leaned over me, with his fingers still inside, but his mouth licked between my legs, while his fingers kept going in and out of me. He couldn't do the deep sucking that the others could—fangs got in the way— but I didn't need deep. He'd worked me to the point where quick flicks of his tongue, back and forth, back and forth, started to bring me. That warmth building up, up inside me, as if the center of my body were a cup, filling up drop by drop with pleasure, until with one last lick, the cup spilled, and I screamed around Micah's body. He thrust one last time, so deep that I choked, and I knew in that moment that he'd been careful, and now he wasn't, now he finally did make me take those last two inches. I finally touched his body for longer than a second. I started to pull away. His hand went to the back of my head, as if he'd hold me in place, but he moved, and let me draw back, and drew himself out.

I watched Micah fight for control. Jean-Claude moved inches to the side, so his mouth nestled in the very upper, very inside of my thigh. Jean-Claude's fangs plunged into me, and I was to that point where pain was pleasure, and die feel of him piercing my skin, his mouth sucking on me, brought me up off the bed, throwing my upper body upward, screaming. My body brushed against the front of Micah's body, and it was that little bit too much. My body came back to rest on the bed, and Micah spilled himself across my breasts, hot, so hot, die liquid thick and heavy, running between my breasts, down die side of my body, pooling trickling down my stomach. The sensation of it made me cry out.

Jean-Claude raised his mouth off me. His mouth was smeared witii my blood, and his body was hard and ready, full of my blood, so he could pleas­ure my body, and his. He usually started out slow for intercourse, but tonight he, like Micah, had done his slow. He was suddenly above me, held up on his arms like a push-up, but his lower body didn't stay up. He thrust into me as hard and fast as I'd ever felt him, and I could watch every tlirust as he moved in and out of me. Three strokes, five, and he brought me. I thrust my hips up to meet his, writhing under him. He brought me twice more, before I felt him begin to lose die rhythm of it, and witii one last tlirust he spilled himself inside me. He stayed above me, holding himself on shaking arms, while he gazed down at me, lips open, fighting for breath. He normally collapsed on top of me afterward, but my chest was covered in Micah's juice. It was already growing thinner, beginning to trickle down my sides like icing melting in die heat.

He stayed above me, panting, and smiling, his moutli still smeared witii my blood. He bent down, carefully, keeping his upper body and hair out of everything, but he kissed me. Kissed me widi my blood like sweet copper in his mouth.

He pulled out, and left me blinking, dazed with it all. He had barely moved out of die way, and Nathaniel was there, above me. I couldn't re­member when he'd moved from the head of the bed. I'd lost track.

I stared down the line of his body, poised above me, and I thought, Didn't I promise to start using condoms} But the worst had happened, I was already pregnant, it didn't matter anymore. Jean-Claude had caught me by surprise, but I let Nathaniel plunge himself inside me, naked, his flesh inside mine with nothing between us.

He found that rhythm that he did sometimes, like a shuddering wave down his body, like he was dancing inside me. And with each shuddering wave, he thrust into me, thrust into me, right over that spot. Jean-Claude had given himself over to the sex, but Nathaniel was doing his usual careful job of it, as if even after all the foreplay he was going to give me my money's worth. His emotions were raw, but his intercourse was controlled. He

wouldn't come until I did, he just wouldn't. He'd made a game of making me come over and over, until I begged him to. It wasn't going to take long tonight.