Vampires' Consort: Magical Menages, Book 2 by Bonnie Dee Page B

Jacob’s back, the line of his spine pointing like an arrow straight down to his ass. As they entered the bathroom, she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his warm back. Sliding her palms over his hips and thighs, she dragged his swim trunks down his legs. Then she crawled around in front of him and looked up from her crouching position at his feet.
    He swallowed as slowly, deliberately, she took his cock in hand and guided it to her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the soft foreskin, tasting the salty ocean and his male musk. She sucked hard enough to make him gasp then drew him deep into her throat. As she bobbed up and down, Jacob rested a hand on her head. She glanced up at his face, loving his grimace of pleasure and how she could make him helpless with her hands and mouth.
    After sucking and pumping for several minutes, Akila left him hard and rose to turn on the shower in the enormous stall.
    Jacob came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He walked her under the warm spray and pushed her up against the cool, tiled wall. He kissed her neck and shoulder, making her squirm. He slid his hands down her body, peeling off her bathing suit and tossing it from the shower onto the floor.
    Then he turned her around and pressed her against the wall again, the tile slick and cool against her back and buttocks. For a moment, he drank in the sight of her naked body. His eyes told her she was beautiful.
    Akila reached for bath gel and a sponge from the shower caddy. She squirted sandalwood-scented soap—no wonder the man always smelled so good—onto the sponge and worked up a lather, then began to soap Jacob’s body.
    He was as sleek as an otter with his hair molded to his skull and his skin gleaming wetly. The white suds rolled down him in streams as Akila glided the sponge over shoulders, arms, chest and groin. She dropped the sponge to the shower floor and went to work on his erect cock with her hands, soaping the length of his shaft and reaching between his legs to cradle his balls.
    Jacob watched through spiky, long lashes and rocked his hips slightly, pushing into her hand as it glided up and down. But after enjoying the attention for several minutes, he moved her hands away and stooped to pick up the sponge. It was his turn to minister to her.
    Akila sighed and nearly closed her eyes as he soaped her body and the hot water beat down on her head and back, rinsing her clean. She inhaled steam and felt as comfortable and pliant as a rag doll—until Jacob knelt before her and began washing her pussy. He plied the sponge between her legs and over her clit, tormenting her with soft, silken touches. She groaned and squirmed and her pussy opened, begging for more. But Jacob left her wanting as she’d done with him. He rose and turned off the water.
    By silent mutual consent, they prepared to finish their play in bed, wrapping themselves in towels and heading toward the other room.
    But when Akila stepped into the bedroom, she stopped stock-still. Valarian lay on the bed waiting for them, naked and gorgeous as a sculptor’s dream or a skin magazine’s pinup model. His hair looked blacker than ever against the cream-colored pillow sham. His limbs were muscular and marked with battle scars that brought home to Akila the fact he’d been a warlord long ago. He’d lived a lifetime—dozens of lifetimes to her brief span. Yet there was an ageless quality about him that made those countless years unimportant. He was here now, vibrant, alive and, if the poker thrusting from between his legs was any indication, very much aroused.
    She glanced at Jacob, half expecting to see a flash of irritation after what he’d said about Valarian never letting him have anything for himself alone. Instead, Jacob’s eyes gleamed as he beheld his master sprawled on the sheets, his olive skin dark against the creamy expanse. Valarian had thrown back the covers. The bed was open and ready for them to join