Smolder (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, #29)(53)
Jean-Claude leaned down to kiss me as Graham rose up higher and began to rub himself over me, dry humping is what it’s called, but I was already wet. Jean-Claude kissed me, soft and eager as Graham gained rhythm against my body. I wrapped my hands in Jean-Claude’s hair, crushing those thick, soft curls of his as I came eager to his mouth as my hips started rising and falling with
Graham’s. I felt a sharp pain like a piece of candy that you’ve sucked too long until it cuts your tongue, then tasted blood, sweet copper pennies. Jean-Claude drew back from the kiss, his eyes drowning in eager blue light, a dot of crimson on his lower lip. He licked my blood from his lip and whispered, “Ma petite.”
I whispered his name back to him, and then in the power that we had raised was another power creeping like a dark thread through our nice, clean lust. Jean-Claude spoke in my mind, “It is in the crowd.”
I tried to speak mind-to-mind, but with Graham’s body rubbing against mine, his desire riding the air, I couldn’t focus enough for it. I whispered, “What is?”
He kissed me again, but this wasn’t for pleasure, it was to let me taste the power that wasn’t us. It was like . . . mist clinging to each person in the audience. Some people were covered in more of it, others were a spiderweb wisp, but none of them was clean. Something, another vampire, had ridden in on Jean-Claude’s power like a Trojan horse, and now unless we could cleanse the audience of this taint the vampire would possess these people, and it would be our fault. We had to save them. He rose back from the kiss to gaze into my eyes. He was thinking we needed to raise more power.
Graham had stopped moving against me as if he was sensing some of what Jean-Claude had shared, or maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention to him. No one likes to be ignored when they’re doing something that sexual with you. I looked up at him not sure what to say, because the threat to the audience and the fact that any vampire could have infiltrated the crowd with us right here and not noticing had scared me. That kind of fear wasn’t an aphrodisiac. I didn’t know what to tell Graham or how to raise enough power to rescue all the nice people who had come to enjoy the show tonight. Jean-Claude knew just what to do. He reached down and cupped his hand over the front of my body, tracing the front of the thong where it clung to me. It felt amazing and the crowd screamed his name, urging him on.
He raised his voice, addressing the crowd. “Shall we raise the heat between Graham and our lovely Nikki?”
Screams of approval and suggestions ranged from just yes, do it, to pornographic. Jean-Claude gazed back at me, his hair falling around his face to hide what he said next from the room. He rubbed his hand over the thong and my body underneath. My breathing was already starting to change.
Graham started to move to all fours instead of the odd push-up position. Jean-Claude said,
“Graham, we need you right where you are.” He raised his voice and said, “Is that not so, ladies, we need Graham to stay, right, where, he, is.” They roared their approval.
“But Nikki must say yes to being your surrogate onstage tonight.” He looked down at me while his hand rested on the cloth of the thong; his hand felt heavier and more important than it should have been. The audience was chanting, say yes, say yes. Jean-Claude looked down at me and said, “Say yes.”
I stared up into his face and felt his fear, and guilt that all these people would be victims for the vampire if we could not save them. I said the only thing I could think to say. “Yes.”
He whispered, “Je t’aime, ma petite.”
“I love you, too.”
He slid his finger inside the thong, so that my eyes fluttered closed for a second, and then he slid more of his hand underneath the cloth and ripped the thong partially off me. One of my pleasure triggers was having lingerie ripped off me. It helped clear my head of doubts and put me back into the head space we needed. Graham hesitated, staring down at us, at me. Jean-Claude pulled the thong free and made sure the crowd saw him toss it to the stage.
Graham made a sound that was half pain and half growl; I liked both. He went up on his knees, which spilled my legs open so he could see that I shaved, but his body still hid me from anyone’s gaze but Jean-Claude’s. Graham stared down at me, and I didn’t blame him for looking where he was looking. This wasn’t a moment for eye contact. The look on his face was tormented, like he was in real pain. Maybe something inside his jeans had twisted on him. Jean-Claude took Graham’s hand in his so he could keep contact with our wolf while he leaned down next to my face. It was the crowd’s eager screams that made me realize he was flashing a very nice view to the audience behind him. He was still wearing only the blue thong and boots. He was making every move onstage as much a part of the show as he could. I knew that the more reality he could give the audience on which to hang the false memories that he needed to plant in their minds, the better. Lying in someone’s mind was just like lying in real life; the best lies are the closest to the truth.
He kissed the side of my face so he could whisper, “I would not share you with another man, but his eagerness at being denied for so long is even greater than anticipated.”
I nuzzled against his face and whispered back, “Enough energy to free the audience?”
“And enough to allow me to trace the taint in the audience to its source.”
I hid my expression in his long hair because I knew I couldn’t control my face to match the sexy tableau we were creating. I’d thought without Richard we wouldn’t have enough energy to save us all once we needed wolf. I had thought our absent third was going to sink us again, and now we were saved. I was so relieved that I said a quick prayer of gratitude, and then I asked Jean-Claude, “How do we sell it to the crowd, so that they don’t remember something we don’t want them to remember?”