Shared Between Them (11 page)

He must have noticed worry and apprehension on her face. She took a deep breath and, not finding another way around it, slowly looped her arms around his neck.

He flicked his member across her entrance and then slowly guided its head inside of her. She could feel every groove and every vein of his overwhelming thickness. It wasn't too deep inside before he put his elbows back by her head and thrust his hips into her. At first, it didn't slide in so easily, and a focused expression appeared on his face, as if putting his length entirely inside of her tight sheath was a challenge he would successfully attempt come hell or high water.

It pinched and burned as he navigated through the sensitive area, and she forgot to stifle her whimper. He paused and readjusted, spreading her thighs further apart to ease the pain of his entry. For a very long moment, he stilled inside of her and let her accommodate to his thickness. He brought his lips down to the ultra-sensitive point on her ear and then kissed and nibbled down the rim of it, until he was sucking on her earlobe. “Is it beginning to feel good?” he asked her huskily. It was as if he knew, for a certainty, that her answer would be affirmative.

His voice was still quiet, as if he didn't want to wake Taric. She looked over and saw that Taric had rolled over onto his back, but he was still sleeping and even snoring slightly. It felt somehow naughty to have sex with Draevan without Taric at least watching on with approval…

“Look at me,” he directed. “I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours.” She shifted her glance back up at him. He growled in the back of his throat, and his hips started their thrusts again. “You know what you need, my little slut? A-good-solid-fuck-ing.”

She gasped as he thrust hard into her. He was so deep already, so thick.

She felt her chest tightening and her breath hitched. “Don't,” he said, suddenly catching her chin with his fingers. “Listen to me right now—don't you come, or I'll spank your ass for you, slut. That's an order.”

Her face flushed. “I'm not a slut,” she hissed at him. She remembered Taric calling her that before as well, and she was too lust-drunk to argue. He could have called her anything, and it would have made her purr.

He didn't stop thrusting, and his words ground out, “You're one in the making. All ours… Our little elf-slut. Soon you're going to crave our cock, wife. You're going to need it like food, water, and air,” he promised her. He groaned, “You're so fucking tight…” He groaned again and lowered his head to her ear again. “Do you feel that? I'm all the way inside of you. Doesn't it feel good? Doesn’t it feel right?” He pressed forward, growling like a beast. “You were born for this. You were born to take my cock, just like you’re doing now…”

She stifled a shudder; it felt so good that every nerve was on fire. She pressed her lips closed, stubborn. She didn't want to please him by saying something he wanted to hear when he was being so rough-worded.

He nibbled her bottom lip and then pulled nearly his entire length from her; she was worrying that it was ending so soon, but then he just rammed it right back into her. She cried out and sank her nails into his shoulders. Gods, it felt like it was hitting her womb!

“You are so sexy when you cry out,” he told her before he did it again. After she moaned in pleasure, he said, “You can tell me how much you like being my little slut. Go ahead, wife. Say it.”

She wasn't planning on it, but as he thrust into her over and over again, she began to feel more and more lust-drunk. She was losing control. “Yeah… Yes…” she panted inanely. She felt herself build up to orgasm; she felt it, and she was driven to get there. But it was as if he knew, and he was punishing her for not playing his game. He slowed to a halt. “No!” she growled, gritting her teeth.

“Tell me you like being my little slut, sweet, and I'll let you come,” he told her patiently, a grin appearing on his lips.

“I hate you,” she growled, and tried to grind her hips on him, attempting to imitate his thrusts in a mirror-image of his own past movements. She was sure it was coming off as desperate, because his grin widened. She bit her lip and then growled, “I like being your…” She swallowed.

“My little slut,” he drawled.

“Your… Your little slut,” she stammered out.

Finally, he pushed himself back into her. It felt wonderful. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure and fulfillment as his thrusts were once again hard and steady. “That your breasts are mine,” he growled as he grabbed one of her breasts, and she knew he was playing a game with her, one she couldn't ignore. His movements felt too perfect.

“My breasts are yours,” she repeated, then gasped when he squeezed her hot, welted bottom.

“Your ass is mine.”

“My ass… is yours…”

“Your pussy is mine.”

“All yours,” she assured.

“You're all mine, all of Taric's. We'll share you between us—any way we please.”

“Yes, yes—gods!” she whimpered. He seemed to temper himself in a way that made her ride along the edge of passion without letting her fall in. “More!”

“I’m going to put a baby in you, elfling. That’s what I’m going to do,” he promised, his beastly growling nearly making it sound like a threat. Somehow, the idea was even more erotic. She didn’t know why, but somehow the thought of getting pregnant from this tryst made her insane with lust. Draevan began to fuck her harder and faster; her breasts bounced violently with every thrust, her pussy felt sore even as she was taking him in, yet she could feel herself finally get there. “Draevan!”

“Come for me,” he ordered her, and surprisingly, she did. His fists bunched the bedspread by her head, and he winced and then groaned. He looked nearly in pain as her muscles clenched violently down on his cock; and in response his cock pulsed, feeling like it was expanding and retracting inside of her. She could actually
feel
his hot cum flowing into her womb, and it felt wonderful. A strange and new satisfaction saturated her entire body.

She panted, but she didn't feel as tired as Draevan suddenly looked. He rolled off of her.

“Wrong side,” Taric groaned, sounding disgusted to be touched by another naked man, but in a way that made it seem like Draevan had done that in the past—rolled over on him.

Draevan grunted with surprise and then rolled back to the other side of her.

“Do you share women often?” she asked, rolling unto her tummy and getting up on her elbows.

Taric smirked and shifted his body to his side, “I suppose, yes. There are the rare times when one of us isn't in the mood, but… We share more often than not.” He looked over at Draevan. “You were wrong, by the way,” he told him.

Draevan grumbled with displeasure.

She raised an eyebrow. “What's he wrong about?”

“He thought that with the binding ceremony, it causes us all to have simultaneous orgasms—if one goes, so does the rest.”

She began to giggle. Were they really that clueless? “You have to be
touching me
, Dummies!” she couldn't help but tease. She picked up her pillow and tossed it at Taric's head.

When he pulled it off, he looked over at her with amazement. “Where did you learn that?”

“I'm an elf; I know. There are fairy stories about it. Like the man who masturbated so often without his wife that she left him for a Winter God?” With the blank expression she was met with, even by Draevan, she realized quickly that it wasn't told to human children. “Fine, fine. What about the man who was able to have sex with all fifty of his wives all at the same time?” Still, vacant expressions.

She frowned. “Oh. Hmm… How about—?”

“Kyra? You need to check with us before telling any stories to our future children,” Draevan ordered, looking quite serious and shocked at the same time. He turned to look at Taric. “So, I'm at least half right. There's magic involved somewhat.”

“I think an investigation still needs to be held,” Taric replied, his tone full of doubt, as he kissed her shoulder.

This 'investigation' was sure to include her… their wife, their
whore
. She couldn't get it through her head yet—in twenty-four hours, she had gone from sure death at the end of a rope to being bred by two powerful human giant-killers.

Taric then pushed himself up and climbed out of bed. He immediately went to the door and demanded food be brought in for them. She grinned excitedly. Her hero! “How'd you know I was hungry?” she teased, sitting up.

He shrugged dismissively. “You need to eat whether you're hungry or not. You have your health to see to—healthy women breed better than waifs,” he educated, walking to a bowl and filling it up with water. He immediately splashed some across the back of his neck.

She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it when she had a thought.

Sure, she didn't particularly like her being thought of as a womb with legs. On the other hand, however, from what she could see they had gone through a lot of trouble for her womb alone, and they seemed prepared to go through a whole lot more. Yesterday, it was a pardon, a bath, and a feather-bed. Today, it would be a feast… What would they provide for her tomorrow?

She wondered if their thinking they could breed her might just be the best thing for them to think.

Besides, no matter how kindly or warmly they acted towards her, apparently they were obliged to give her plenty of pain and humiliation if they decided that she required it…

She blinked and felt her chin drop.
'I must actually be what they say,'
she thought to herself as she found herself thinking of their kindness as her due.
'Only a whore would allow this rather than offing herself. Lord, not only did I allow it… I enjoyed it.'

“Hey now—our little elfling is perfectly healthy from what I can tell. Look at her; look at these hips,” he gave her bottom a solid spank, and Kyra chirped with displeasure. Draevan merely continued, “These
breasts
!” Draevan unsurprisingly illustrated his argument by palming one of her breasts roughly with his hands. “Gods, she makes me crazy! I'm already up for giving her a re-fill.”

She pouted at his crudeness and shrunk away from him towards the far end of the bed. “I'm sore,” she complained, drawing her thighs tightly together.

“Besides, I'm next,” Taric told him firmly. “We have to always seed her in the same day—remember?”

She blinked very quickly. “What?” They were certainly referring to a discussion made outside of her presence!

“When you give birth, we want to make sure we don't know who the father is. Every child you have will be regarded as both of ours,” Taric informed her, gesturing to Draevan and himself. “That's the only way to share a wife—this is how the arrangement is done in the North.”

That didn't sound promising. She had a feeling she was going to get a lot sorer. Her husbands were insatiable—they planned to take her often, and they both wanted a 'turn' every day. “It will become easier as we go on,” Draevan assured her, reaching over to give the inside of her thigh a consoling pat. “Eventually we'll just forget who had you when.”

“Oh, good…” she said, a nervous squeak in her voice.

Although for a hazy, lust-filled moment when Draevan was growling filth into her ear as he rutted over her that morning, she had for a moment fantasized about having a child… Which was surely madness! Besides its impossibility, she’d never seen anyone handle a child. She had no idea how such an idea could have, even for a moment, been so intriguing. “I think we made our little wife nervous, Taric.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. “Don't worry, my pet. You'll get used to this arrangement. Until then, just remember that if you're a good girl, you'll think yourself the most spoiled wife anywhere.”

“So I’m a well-paid whore,” she simplified, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Taric quickly quelled. “You’re our wife—
we’re married
.”

“Right. Whores are paid what they’re owed, wives are given what they desire,” Draevan casually reworded. “That, and you’re ours exclusively.”

“Exclusively,” she repeated wearily, never having heard the word before.

“You will cause pleasure to us and to us alone,” Taric educated, patting her knee.

She knew that was expected of marriage, of course, but the demand still struck her as unfair, since she had no choice in it. “Well,” she huffed, knowing that when she pointed out the reverse she’d get nothing but complaints. “Then you’ll have me and me alone!”

“Absolutely,” Draevan replied easily.

“Of course, pet,” Taric agreed.

She frowned; their compliance was quite unexpected. Normally soldiers like Draevan and Taric were too wild to settle down with only one woman. “Really?” she found herself asking, confused. It was certainly strange to have a man call her a slut at one moment and then swear life-long devotion in the next.

The men laughed and Taric grabbed her arm and dragged her over to him. As soon as she was next to him, he picked her whole body up and set her on his lap. She felt his cock harden under her, moving against her flesh, but all he did was affectionately kiss her ear point and say, “You’re the cutest thing,” he told her, and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Even though you’re obviously a little upset at something. My suggestion is we put some food into you; then you’ll be in a better mood.”

She doubted that anyone could have possibly handled all that had happened to her in the last month any better, even if on a full stomach, but apparently her doubtful look didn’t get that across to either of her husbands. But she didn’t have to agree to the food being brought to her as they both set to the task of pestering the nearest servant for aid in feeding their wife.

She was certain when they turned back in her direction that Taric would take it upon himself to get between her thighs and take what was rightfully his once again, but it didn’t seem to cross his mind. In fact, the two men dressed and spoke of ordering a dress to be sent up to her.

She blinked. “A dress?” she asked, incredulous when Draevan, who made the order, turned away from the door.

“Well, yes,” Draevan said, his eyes shifting as if he worried for a moment that he had done something wrong. “We don’t want any servants seeing you in your just your skin. That sight is for our eyes only.” He pulled his tunic over his head, flexing his roping muscles as he did so.