Blood Tint ~ Part 14

{Start with Part 1}

Blood Tint ~ Part 14

It was a few blocks to the hotel, more than enough time for me and Daci together to find out that at least certain aspects of the evening had excited Neave. By the time we pulled onto the Avenue of the America’s Neave sat slumped on the seat between us, one knee over each of ours. My arm disappeared up under her skirt from one side, Daci’s from the other, our fingers sliding by one another as we fucked them in and out of Neave’s slick cunt.

“He’s…” Neave whispered, “The driver… is watching me.”

“I’m sure he’s seen worse, dear,” Daci purred in her ear, bringing her thumb up to graze Neave’s clit.

“I don’t…”

“It’s all right. You can close your eyes, we’re nearly there.”

She looked at me, then and I saw the struggle. Self consciousness, desire, the precipice of doubt and trust. Then she closed her eyes, body melting into the seat, cunt flooding our fingers…

“SoHo Grand.” The cabbie announced, with a smile audible through the thick Pakistani accent.

Neave jumped at the words, inner muscles squeezing my buried digit as her eyes flew open. Daci whispered calming words to her as she disengaged and opened her door, and led Neave out, shaky-kneed as I took care of the fare.

I rejoined them, taking my side of Neave as the hotel doors opened for us. I nodded over to the front desk, noting poor Marsha had the drawn the graveyard shift again. She smiled at me, blushing.

Polished wood, brass and mirrors of the elevator up to our rooms contrasted markedly with Neave’s loft’s rickety cargo carrier. We took it to the 8^th floor, where we made the North penthouse our home when we wintered in New York.

Ironically one of the selling points of the hotel was the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined all the outer walls. It had been our special request, with appropriate incentive, to have the place outfitted with thick curtains and opaque shades when it was renovated a decade ago.

Entering the suite, the windows looked out on the lit city, and upon closing the suite door behind us, Daci reached for the control that started the shades and curtains closing.

Neave had steadied some on her way up to the rooms, and took the space in with a critical eye.

“Nice place,” she said, “But it doesn’t look like you really _live_ here.”

“We don’t,” I said, catching, Daci’s eye and leading Neave to the living-area couch.

Neave looked at me quizzically.

“We’re sort of migratory. We like long nights, as you can guess.”

“You don’t have any place to call ‘home’?”

The blinds closed with a smooth swish of taut fabric, and Daci relaxed, melting into the couch in way that revealed just how tense she’d been. She reached out to Neave’s cheek, drawing her closer as if her touch were magnetic.

“Here and there, a house, an apartment.”

“One castle,” I added, smiling. Daci looked past Neave to me briefly and snorted.

“A keep. A small one,” she corrected, her lips grazing Neave’s.

Neave sighed into Daci’s mouth, and I let my hand trace from her neck and down her back as she leaned into the smaller woman’s reclining form. Daci hiked her skirt higher, revealing slender, pale legs and thighs, and that she’d lost her panties somewhere along the way.

“Long nights,” Neave said, breathily. She was trying to think. “They’re going away here… For the spring. Are you going away too?”

Daci looked at me for a moment, I caught the fleeting taste of her conflict. It _was_ time to go. But Neave had caught her, too, almost as hard as she’d caught me. One glance to solidify understanding of the tight tangle we’d made in such a short time.

“Not just yet, my dear,” Daci said, taking Neave’s head in her hands and guiding her. Neave kissed wherever Daci placed her lips; neck, collar bone, solar plexus, lower, through Daci’s blouse. Daciana shifted on the couch, opening her legs to either side of Neave’s sinking head, until both women groaned aloud at the most intimate of kisses.

I could not simply watch, shifting myself and Neave on the couch, both of us to our knees, her ass raised to me as I lifted her skirt. The shedding of slacks and shredding underwear took place in the blink of an eye, and Neave’s whine as I filled her was only partly muffled by Daci’s cunt.

Another tension, the sensuality of the evening’s party, rose and broke in the three of us as Neave feasted on Daci’s night-long arousal, and I sated myself in the pure joy of fucking. This time, the only biting was Neave nipping Daci’s clit, given away by a sharp intake of breath and Daci’s grip tightening in Neave’s hair with a wicked chuckle. Daci looked at me as I sank to the hilt into Neave’s clutching cunt, and smiled sultry, fangs bared. It almost made me come right there, savoring everything so, but it was Neave’s mewing cry and the sudden clamping down of her inner muscles as orgasm took her, that set me off – the first time.

I’m not sure how we all found the bed, and I can’t remember when the physical sensations of flesh and moisture, lips and tongues and fingers and crevices, merged into dreams of the same.

{Continued in Part 15}