Kiss Across Time (Kiss Across Time Series) Read online

  Veris brought her back upon her feet and Brody lifted the ruined gown over her head. The two men stripped her bare and Veris snuggled up behind her, his hands on her hips, his fingertips moving in light, gentle, teasing circles, while Brody stood before her.

  “It’s my turn to play,” Brody declared.

  “Here?” Taylor asked.

  “Why not?” He shrugged out of the billowing rough linen shirt he wore, pulling it off over his head and tossed it from him. His wide shoulders gleamed in the low light coming through the open doors, surprisingly tanned and corded with muscle. His gaze was heated as it settled on her again. The front of his leather trousers was strained by his engorged cock. He untied the fastenings and opened it and she could see the blunt end of his cock jutting above the trousers as they curled open. His cock was red and pulsing.

  She was on fire. She moaned a little, her thoughts growing hazy and indistinct, except for a strong need—the need to be taken. Veris’ words whispered in her mind.

  Taylor rested her head against Veris’ shoulder. “Please…” she murmured helplessly. Her breasts were molten tipped and aching.

  Brody pushed up against her, his leather-covered shaft pressing against her mons. The pressure was perfect, scattering her wits even more and making her pussy quiver. Taylor clutched at Brody’s shoulders, feeling flesh and iron muscle beneath. His dark gaze bore into her as he lifted her chin with his long fingers. “Why you, my beautiful one?” His voice was thick with lust.

  “You find her pleasing?” Veris asked. His voice rumbled against her back. His hand lifted to her breast and stroked it, as if he were drawing attention to it but Taylor found her eyes were closing as her thoughts further scattered by his touch.

  Brody’s black gaze lifted to Veris’ face. “You know I do.”

  Veris caught Brody’s face in his hand. It was a gentle touch. The touch of a lover. “Then enjoy,” Veris said softly. “Who are we to question fate, hmmm? After all these years, you should know better, freond.”

  Brody nodded, as his gaze shifted back to Taylor and grew heated even as his head lowered and his mouth covered hers. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his lips moving against hers. “Angst comes naturally to me. My family were all poets.” His tongue rimmed her lips, then probed inside, hard and insistent, as his hands held her face steady and his body pressed up against her.

  Taylor trembled at the erotic pleasure of being pressed between these two tall, hard males. They had lived so long, seen so much, yet they wanted her. Taylor Yates, of the failed career and little life. She could feel Brody’s hard cock against her hip as he held her. Veris’ pants, pushed up behind her, were bulging and pushed against her ass in a way that made her want to push back and encourage him to thrust harder.

  Between the two of them, there was an overwhelming rush of sensations. Their hands were everywhere on her body and she couldn’t keep track of where they were, as they moved up and down in long sweeping strokes and brushes wherever her flesh was not already covered by their bodies.

  Body’s kisses were sweet drugged wine to her. Taylor fought to keep her eyes open, for she did not want this waking dream to end but her lids grew heavy with desire. She clung to him, her legs weak.

  “Brody, please,” she whispered when he released her mouth.

  “Please what?” His voice was thick and rough. He stepped back from her and Veris lifted her up and kept her on her feet, his big hands around her waist.

  She couldn’t put her thoughts together. She ached with need but couldn’t find the words. She lifted her hand out to him. “Please…both of you.”

  Veris drew in a heavy breath. She felt his lips on her shoulder and the soft brush of his teeth. “You honor us.” His voice too, was low, hoarse with a sudden longing and instead of his hands holding her, his arms slid around her and held her tight.

  “Perhaps that’s why,” Brody said, almost to himself. He stripped off the last of his clothing. He was strong, his body hard and enduring and his cock was sharply erect. He loosened Veris’ arms and brought Taylor against him, his hand against the back of her hip, pressing her pelvis so that their hips met. “I can’t wait,” he muttered. “Veris…”

  “Come here, sweet one,” Veris whispered to her and she felt his hands on her thighs, separating them, lifting her. Spreading her. “I will not let you fall,” he told her and she knew that. She felt safer in these men’s arms than she had ever felt in her life, yet they could extinguish her life in a heartbeat and with fewer qualms than a human squashing a bug.

  As Veris lifted her, Brody pressed in against her, his hands on her breasts, tasting her with his fingers, unable to let her go. His expression was fevered and hungry. Veris brought her up high enough for Brody to sink his cock into her and he barely hesitated. The blunt tip of his cock slipped into her narrow moist cleft and the thick shaft speared into her with a force that made her thoughts groggy.

  As Brody’s hand tangled in her hair at the back of her neck and he pulled his thick cock out of her pussy in a slow, deliberate withdrawal, only to ram it back into her again, she realized she was drunk on pleasure.

  Brody’s controlled, hard strokes slowly shortened, became quicker and he pushed up against her.

  “More,” she begged. “Please, more.”

  His mouth brushed up against her shoulder. She felt the scrape of teeth.

  “Brody,” Veris said, his voice low. It was a warning.

  Brody halted, his chest rising and falling hard, his face tucked against her neck. Finally, he lifted his head and kissed her lips. His eyes seemed totally black to her. “I think you could be addictive, Taylor Yates.” He gripped her bottom. “Put your legs and your arms around me.”

  She wound her legs and arms around him, feeling the movement translated in tiny shifts of his cock still lodged inside her pussy. She found she was gasping as she moved.

  “I have you,” Brody assured her, his hands firm underneath her.

  It was an erotic sensation. She looked up at him and licked her lips, feeling her pussy clench around him. “I know,” she said, her voice husky.

  She could hear Veris behind her, the rustle of cloth and knew he was undressing. Her heart raced. In less than a minute, she felt Veris pressing up against her from behind, his hands on her hips.

  “And now you shall have both of us,” he said. “As you wish.”

  His hands stroked her ass cheeks, smoothing over Brody’s where they supported her and slipped into her cleft. She bucked at the sensation of Veris’ gentle probing even as Brody was buried inside her. She moaned. Her senses were beginning to reel. “Hurry,” she begged, for she knew what he planned.

  His fingers pushed at her anus and they were slick with something. Oil, she suspected. They slipped inside. Sweet pleasure. She felt him work the muscle, stretching it, preparing her. Dark excitement gripped her. She looked up at Brody, as her pussy clenched around him. Her breathing was ragged.

  “Quickly,” Brody said, his voice low and harsh.

  The tip of Veris’ cock replaced his fingers, pushing at the tiny aperture and Taylor fought not to close her eyes in response to the dizziness whooshing through her. Veris’ cock eased inside her, slippery with the same oily substance. She felt every delightful inch slide in, until he was completely inside her. There was no discomfort. Just the feeling of fullness and of delicate tissues being stretched. A sense of possession.

  She could feel her thoughts jangling apart. “Hurry,” she said, her voice husky. “Fuck me.”

  “As you command,” Brody murmured.

  As one, the two men moved together. Their cocks slid from her body, almost completely, before pushing back in. Veris’ hands were supporting her, too. She could feel them. Their cocks beat into her in concerted rhythm, driving the breath from her, scattering thought and meaning from her mind.

  Taylor began to tremble violently, her climax already shuddering through her. “Too late,” she whispered, clutching at Brody’s shoulders desperately,
her body clenching around them in spasmodic convulsions as it swept through her.

  She felt their mouths on her shoulders, the sensitive skin of her nape. The brush of sharp teeth. Then the prick of fangs and with a silvery rush her orgasm bust upon her like a series of exploding fireworks. She threw her head back and screamed, her whole body tightening up in a column of gripping muscle. Even as she screamed, she felt a tongue—Brody’s—slide up the length of her throat.

  Hot cum spilled into her. She felt it. Both of them came as she did and that tripped off another secondary climax in her, a small shock wave of surprise and pleasure as the two cocks jerked and spasmed in her channels. She clung to Brody and leaned against Veris, glad that both of them were there.

  She knew before she opened her eyes that they had returned to the hotel room. Something about the air changed and grew smaller, warmer and more closed around them. The kind of air that only ever came with a self-contained room that was never opened to the outdoors.

  Taylor opened her eyes, breathing hard, sadness touching her. “We’re back,” she whispered.

  “Then you’d better speak English again,” Brody murmured, in English. She could hear the difference. English was harsh, sharp and ugly, but until now, she had never noticed.

  They were on the bed where they began and both men were on their knees, cradling her between them. Taylor turned her head to look at Veris. “What were we speaking?” she asked and it was an effort to speak English. She had to concentrate.

  “Brody and I used the local language then, as we do wherever we go. Medieval Latin with a Tuscan dialect.” He kissed her brow and gently withdrew from her body, as did Brody. They lowered her to the mattress, so that she was kneeling next to them.

  “Will I forget it again?” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to.”

  “We don’t know,” Brody told her. “There’s too much about this we don’t know.” He glanced at Veris questioningly.

  Veris shook his head. “I don’t know either.” He spoke slowly, as if he were puzzling through ideas as he spoke.

  Taylor stifled a yawn.

  Instantly, they both turned to her and gathered her in their arms. She was tucked beneath the sheets and their long bodies bracketed hers before she could gather the energy to protest. But she really didn’t want to protest, if tiredness produced this result. She could hardly think of a more comfortable way of falling asleep.

  She snuggled against Brody’s chest as he stroked her brow, soothing her into sleep and looked up at Veris. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “I hope so,” Veris said, his eyes dancing. “How else can we convince you to stay?”

  Sleep was already claiming her, or she was sure his words would have caused more alarm, or at least more surprise. Instead she felt nothing but inevitability.

  “Tell me, Taylor,” Veris murmured. “The one thing you wouldn’t share when we spoke last week. Why have you spent seven years on this academic fool’s errand, trying to prove the existence of Inigo Domhnall?”

  “You’ll laugh,” she murmured, her eyes slipping shut.

  “After all we’ve seen in our lives? Try us,” he coaxed.

  She reached back in her mind to the old memories. “So long ago,” she murmured. “My father’s business partner. Twenty years ago. He would come to dinner and tell stories about King Arthur. Stories that I’d never heard before, or heard ever since. He told me they were stories written by a man call Inigo Domhnall, who lived in King Arthur’s castle. I remember those stories as if he’d told them to me yesterday…”

  She must have slept a little for she woke up with a small jerk. She was alone in the bed and from beyond the room, she could hear Veris and Brody talking in hot, angry, low voices. From the shadows moving across the doorway, she could see they were gesturing too. Tempers were high.

  But sleep was grabbing at her. She was too short on sleep and they had spent centuries resolving differences. Her problems would wait.

  A little later she woke again and felt a big male body curled around hers. She didn’t care which. She smiled, pushed back into him so that her ass was against his pelvis. A hand curled over her breast. Long fingers.

  Brody.

  She sighed. Sleep instantly reclaimed her.

  She woke slowly, the third time, to the feel of Brody’s hand on her breast, stroking the nipple erect, his lips nuzzling her neck.

  “She’s everything we could have asked for,” Brody whispered. “And then some.” There was a note in his voice than made her heart ache.

  “I know, Brody.” Veris’ voice was filled with terrible wisdom. Then, “I think she’s awake.”

  “I don’t care.” Brody’s hand shifted and brushed her temple. “Taylor?”

  “I am awake,” she confessed and opened her eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Eleven in the morning,” Veris told her, his blue eyes drilling into hers.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what we’re talking about?” Brody said, sitting up so he could look at her face.

  “No, she’s not,” Veris told him, his gaze steady on her face.

  She swallowed. “I can hear pain in your voices. Why would I add to it by probing?”

  The pair of them exchanged another look.

  “I see you two have sorted out your differences,” she said sleepily.

  Veris looked startled, then annoyed. “We woke you, last night.”

  “Yes.”

  “How much did you hear?” The question had an edge to it and made Taylor wake up a little more.

  She tried to sit up and Brody helped her. “I deliberately didn’t listen,” she said. “Why? Was it about me?” Her heart lurched.

  “Indirectly.” Veris pushed his hand through his hair. “Taylor, we must ask you to do something for us. Something that is rarely done among our kind.”

  Taylor gripped her hands together, sensing that this was part of what they had been arguing about, last night. She drew in a breath that seemed thick and hard to swallow. “What do you want me to do?”

  “We need you to speak to our queen.”

  Chapter Seven

  The concrete canyons of the Los Angeles Financial District had never looked so foreign and yet so familiar to her. Taylor stared at them from behind the heavily filtered glass of the stretch limousine, her nervousness increasing. No one was paying much attention to the limo, for which she was grateful. Limousines were commonplace in downtown L.A.

  “No one can see you from the street, so relax,” Brody murmured, picking up her hand and kissing the knuckles. His lips tickled her flesh. He wore what she labeled his rock star disguise—the leather pants and black designer death metal shirt with heavy chains and hand-painted designs. It went with his long black hair and brooding Celtic looks but the tanned, healthy flesh and wide shoulders beneath the clothes did not. It was a good thing he was so tall, for it helped offset some of the width. He also wore a big pair of wraparound sunglasses.

  “Besides, you look like you belong inside this vehicle,” Veris said from the other side of the bench. He wore aviators with mirror lenses and the effect was disturbing. Of the pair of them, she had more trouble figuring what was going on inside Veris’ head. The glasses increased the effect. So did the black suit, black shirt and gray silk tie and black overcoat. He’d even tied his own collar-length blond locks at the back of his neck with a piece of leather. Veris’ careful attention to his attire impressed upon her that they really were going to meet royalty.

  That and their nervousness. The two of them had positively dithered over her appearance and preparations. A big flat white box and smaller boxes and parcels had arrived with the hotel bellboys along with the meal Brody had thoughtfully ordered for her. The pair of them had arranged for the delivery of clothes and accessories suitable for her to attend a queen.

  Taylor smoothed her hand over the lace covering her thigh. It didn’t cover very much of it…but that was what happened when men chose a dress for you. However, she had to admit that th
ese two men seemed to know something about elegance.

  The dress was made of green stretch lace that almost exactly matched her eyes, with a high halter neck that looked like a polar neck cuff. The cuff was covered in white Swarovski crystals, attached in a waterfall of graduated sizes that looked like a necklace, that glittered as she moved and breathed. Beneath the cuff the dress split open to reveal her cleavage and the split swooped down to just above her waist. The dress hugged her figure, all the way down to her thighs, where it stopped short just below the top of her stockings.

  The back of her dress didn’t exist. It scooped out to just above her ass, leaving her back bare. It wasn’t possible to wear a bra with this dress but there were built-in cups, for which she was grateful, for her breasts were at least a C cup and she needed the support. In addition, there were separate, tight-fitting sleeves to go with the dress, that slid up her arms and flared out over her knuckles.

  They’d even ordered stiletto shoes to go with the dress—strappy sandals with ties around her ankles, also covered in crystals. There was a thick crystal-encrusted cuff to go around her wrist, that showed every time she lifted her arm and the flared sleeve fell back.

  One of the other boxes contained a replacement leather bustier and mini-skirt for the clothing Veris had ripped from her the night they’d met. Nothing was said by either man. The box just arrived with the others. Taylor smiled when she saw what was inside, and put the box aside.

  By the time she was fully dressed, with her make-up applied and her hair backcombed and sitting just right, Taylor felt sinfully sexy and incredibly elegant. She walked into the sitting room, feeling a touch nervous. “Will this do?” she asked.

  Both Veris and Brody got to their feet.

  “You look like a million dollars,” Brody said, picking up her arm and licking her shoulder.