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.”

I was having trouble controlling my breathing, because Abeloec was still vibrating and moving inside me. I was close. “I like pain to a point, but not a broken jaw. We’ll need to lay some ground rules before…you…get…your turn,” and the last word was a scream as I threw my head back and my body spasmed. Mistral caught my head or I would have smashed it against the hard ground.

Abeloec’s pleasure spread through me, over me, in me, in waves. Waves of pleasure, waves of power, over and over, as if here, too, he was able to control what was happening. As if he could control my release the way he’d controlled everything else. The orgasm would roll over me from my groin to every inch of my body, then it would start again, spreading from between my legs over my skin in a rush that sent my hands seeking something to hold on to, my body thrashing. My entire upper body left the ground and smashed back, over and over, while Abeloec held my hips and legs trapped against his body.

Someone was behind me, catching me, trying to hold me down, but the pleasure was too much. I could do nothing but struggle and scream, one long ragged scream after another. My fingers found flesh to tear, and strong hands held my wrist tight. My other hand found my own body, and tore at it. Another hand found that wrist, pinned it to the floor.

I heard voices over my screams: “Go, Abeloec, just finish it!”

“Now, Abeloec!” urged Mistral.

And he did, and suddenly the world was made of white light, and it was as if I could feel his release between my legs, feel it hot and thick, and him buried as deep inside me as he could go. I floated in that white light, and found starbursts of red and green and blue. Then there was nothing, nothing but white, white light.