Nuit Aux Trois Read online

  "You don't believe me,” Quinn said softly.

  "Of course we do, Quinn,” Dev said, his voice deep in her ear. Quinn closed her eyes, then shivered when Dev's lips touched her neck. He kissed her gently, his lips caressing her heated skin.

  "Dev. What are you...?"

  "Hush, Boo,” Fletch said, stepping in front of them and taking Quinn's hands in his own. Bébé, détendent. Just relax."

  He caressed her forehead, moving tracing his fingers down her hairline as Dev continued to kiss her neck. Then, he leaned over and claimed her lips.

  Quinn reeled from the sensations; Dev's warm lips trailed over her neck and Fletch's lips skimmed over her own. When his tongue snaked out she moaned, her lips parting. He licked her upper lip, then probed deeper, his tongue dancing around her own while Dev held her close to him.

  When Fletch ended the kiss, he traced his thumb over her mouth.

  "What's happening?” She could barely hear her own voice.

  "What should have happened years ago,” Dev said. “We just didn't know how to approach the subject. We want you, Quinn. We want the three of us to be together."

  Quinn's head spun. How could this happen? Did they feel sorry for her since she couldn't find a date, so they thought they had to make her feel like they wanted her?

  "You don't have to do this,” Quinn said. “I know you both prefer men."

  "Boo,” Fletch said. “It has nothing to do with males or females. Dev and I are together because we love each other."

  "And we love you, too,” Dev said. “We've wanted to tell you, but we weren't sure how you'd react."

  Quinn's heart went into overdrive. How should she react? Was there some sort of set protocol when your male roommates told you they wanted to have sex with you? And what made them think she'd just accept it? Of course she wanted to, her taut nipples and wet center proved that.

  But what would happen to their happy little family? How would things change? Right now things were good. But what would happen once they were back in New Orleans? Would they kick her out of the house? Would they just want her to visit their bedroom every once in a while? Or did they just want her because she had a womb?

  That idea slammed into her so quickly it made her knees weak.

  "You're thinking too much,” Dev said. “If we have issues to discuss, then we need to do it now. Don't hold it in."

  "You two have obviously already discussed it,” Quinn said, wincing at the hurt tone of her voice.

  "I told you, you bioque,” Fletch said. “We shouldn't have kept her in the dark."

  "Don't blame him,” Quinn said. “Dev didn't keep this little secret on his own."

  She pushed away from them. “It's dinnertime and I'm hungry. I've just seen my first ghost and I have two fools who think I should just fall into bed with them."

  "It's not like we just met,” Dev said. “We—"

  Quinn held up her hand. “Feed me first. Then we'll talk."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Five

  "There's the crypt,” Fletch said, sprinting across the grass toward the family cemetery.

  Rachel had told them at dinner that Alison and the rest of her family were buried on the plantation land instead of residing in a public City of the Dead.

  "You're quiet,” Dev said. “Have we shocked you?"

  "You're kidding, right? My roommates, whom I totally adore, tell me they want to have sex with me and then ask if I'm shocked. Imagine that."

  "We wanted to approach the subject earlier, but we weren't sure how to do it,” Dev said, a sheepish look on his face. “We were worried about driving you away. Neither of us could stand it if we lost you."

  "That goes for me, too,” she assured him. “Still, I feel a little blindsided."

  And very tempted, which scares me.

  Dev nodded, and shifted the items in his arms. After dinner, they'd decided to walk to the cemetery, which was a little more than a mile from the house. Rachel had fixed them a basket with fruit and cookies for dessert, and given them an old quilt to take along so they could sit under the “many, many trees that decorate the plantation and enjoy the sunset."

  Dev opened the gate to the cemetery and ushered Quinn inside. Fletch was already walking around the crypts, running his hands along dates and names and stopping at times to take photos.

  "Here she is,” he said after a few moments, motioning them toward a corner. “Alison, over here all by her lonesome."

  Quinn walked toward the crypt, a strange feeling of excitement filling her belly. The stone monument showed the wear of the ages, but it looked as if Rachel and her husband had come out to the cemetery to clean off the crypts, and to mow and weed the grass.

  "She was so young,” Fletch said. “Barely twenty-five when she died. And her sister didn't even have the decency to put Amedee in the same crypt. He's all the way over there."

  He pointed toward the gate of the cemetery.

  "Well, I guess she thought Alison wouldn't want to be next to her killer,” Quinn said.

  She moaned softly, and then a full-body shake took over, rocking her from the tops of her ears to the tips of her toes.

  "Boo?” Fletch's voice sounded far away as Quinn wrapped her arms around her chest and moved away from the crypt. “Boo? What's wrong?"

  "Cold. So cold."

  Dev stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “She's freezing. Let's step outside the gate."

  Each man took a hand and propelled Quinn toward the opening of the cemetery. As they neared it, the gate slammed shut. All three took a step back and stared.

  Quinn's teeth started to chatter and Fletch pulled her into his arms as Dev pulled on the gate. It wouldn't budge. Mist appeared around their legs, moving higher and Quinn's shivers turned into a full body shake.

  "Dev? Fletch? What's happening?"

  The men looked around, their eyes widening as they searched the mist.

  "Do you see a shape, a form?” Dev asked.

  "None. But this is hurtin’ our Quinn. She's ice cold."

  "Son of a ... Lift her over the fence, Fletch."

  Fletch made a move toward the fence, which was about four feet high. He lifted his arms to place Quinn on the other side then let out a yelp of pain and fell backward, Quinn landing on top of him.

  "Fletch! Quinn!” Dev dropped the blanket and basket he'd been carrying and stepped forward. Fletch let out a howl of agony, and pushed Quinn away from him.

  "Try and jump it,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

  Quinn, her body still shivering, goose pimples now evident on her arms and chest, crawled toward the fence. She could hear the men talking behind her and turned.

  "Go!” Dev yelled, pointing toward the fence. “It's directed at you. Once you're gone, it might stop. Go!"

  She grabbed the fence, which felt ice cold in her hands, and pulled herself up to her knees. Once she was on her feet, she stood quickly and made to lift her leg over the fence. She felt arms wrap around her waist and pull her backwards.

  "Dev! Please.” The force was pulling her back into the graveyard. Quinn kept a hold on the fence, trying to break away from the invisible entity that had control over her. Her breathing quickened, to a desperate pant as she fought back tears of panic.

  Why weren't Dev and Fletch helping her? She turned her head to see the two men on the ground, barely visible through the mist.

  "Stop it! Stop it! Alison, please!"

  The pressure around her waist lessened and a woman's soft cries filled the empty space.

  "Alison?” Quinn's chest heaved. The mist started to disappear and seconds later, Quinn felt the pull on her body lessen. She stood upright and leaned against the fence. She looked toward Dev and Fletch and gasped.

  A feminine figure appeared near the crypt. She floated above the ground, the mist hovering around her feet. Her dress was white, lacy and full. Her blond hair hung straight around her shoulders, and the look on her face was one o
f extreme sadness. Quinn knew from the portraits it was Alison. Her mind had trouble wrapping itself around what she was seeing, but she knew it was Alison, or her double.

  She started to speak, French words spilling out of her mouth quickly. Quinn shook her head. “I can't, wait..."

  "Vous devez aider mon Amedee. Économisez-lui de la sorcière. S'il vous plaît! Je vous sollicite! Elle le blesse. S'il vous plaît, aidez-le."

  "Fletch?” He stood, nearby, his eyes wide with excitement and wonder.

  "Alison?” he asked softly.

  The figure turned its sad eyes toward Fletch. The man stared until Dev yelled, “Fletch! What did she say?"

  Fletch shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “A witch is hurting Amedee. She wants us to help him."

  "Um, Alison,” Fletch cleared his voice. “Qui est la sorcière, Alison? Who is the witch?"

  The figure wavered as the mist grew dimmer. “Delphie. Elle l'a asservi, maintenu lui dans les chaînes. Aidez-le."

  "Delphie."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Six

  "Over here,” Dev said, heading toward a copse of trees. “This looks good. We can sit and talk away from the house and the graveyard."

  Quinn stared at him at shook her head. Her hands were still shaking but Dev and Fletch were full of energy, bursting to talk about what had just happened.

  "I'm confused,” she said as Dev spread the blanket on the ground and dropped the basket along the edge. The sun was rapidly sinking toward the horizon's edge, and it would be dark soon. The cooling night air seemed as hot as a summer day after the icy confines of the graveyard, and Alison's visit. “If Alison is at the graveyard, then who is at the house? Or is she in both places?"

  "Look who believes in ghosts now,” Dev said, a smile on his face.

  Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head angrily. “Two floating figures in one day. I should be heading back to New Orleans. But I'm not, so just answer me."

  He laughed. “I would say Delphie is the ghost at the house. Perhaps she is only active in October because that is when she worked her evil plan to make Amedee kill Alison and Cyrille. It was the only way she could have him all to herself."

  Fletch sat down across from Dev and they patted the spot between them. When Quinn didn't move, Dev opened the picnic basket.

  "Let's see, we have cheese, crackers, fruit and some water. Thirsty?” He held a bottle out to Quinn.

  "How are you so calm right now? We just saw a woman that's been dead for almost two hundred years."

  "Don't fache yourself, Boo. Come and sit."

  "I'm not angry. I'm—I'm freaked out and, and ... shit! This was supposed to be relaxing. We've been here less than ten hours. I've seen two ghosts, one of whom attacked me in a cemetery, and the two men I care about most in the world tell me they want to fuck me."

  "We love it when you talk dirty,” Dev said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Come and sit."

  "Or better yet, come and lay,” Fletch said. “We're all alone out here. No ghosts. Just the three of us."

  "No ghosts? What do you call what just happened in the cemetery?"

  "Alison won't bother us,” Dev said. “Sit. Let's talk about what happened this afternoon. You say Alison and Amedee were making love, and someone joined them?"

  "We've already gone over this. I'm confused, though, how Alison could be vilified for all these years, and yet turn out to be..."

  "The good girl?” Dev's voice was full of amusement. “Do you remember the saying, ‘history is written by the victors'? If Alison and Delphie were fighting over Amedee, Delphie won because Alison was dead. Delphie was left to tell the story anyway she liked."

  "Does that mean Amedee didn't kill Alison? Or Cyrille?” Quinn sat down between Dev and Fletch, then shifted nervously when both of them slide closer to her, pressing their bodies together.

  "Don't know,” Fletch said, moving Quinn's hair away from her neck and trailing kisses over her skin.

  Quinn hissed in delight when Dev followed his lead on the other side of her neck.

  "Then I guess we need to ask her,” Quinn said. “Maybe we should go back to the cemetery and..."

  Dev took her chin in his fingers and turned her toward him.

  "Hush, Quinn.” He lowered his lips onto hers, capturing them in a gentle slide that made both of them groan in pleasure.

  His tongue pressured her lips to part, and when she acquiesced, she felt the wonderful glide of him over her teeth and into her mouth. At the same time, Fletch's hand slipped under her shirt, his hand gently caressing her stomach before moving upward to capture her breast. He tenderly squeezed, seeking out her satin-clad nipple and pinching it gently.

  Quinn pulled back from the kiss, her senses reeling from sensation. “Wait. I'm not ready for this."

  "Yes you are, Boo,” Fletch said. “We know you want it as much as we do."

  He lifted his face toward them. Dev leaned down and their lips met in front of Quinn's face. She smiled as she watched them kiss. Their lips, so familiar with each other, were moving sensuously over each other's mouths.

  When their tongues darted out and touched she groaned, and the groan grew louder when their tongues turned to her, each one of them claiming a side of her mouth and licking her lips until they met in the center.

  Quinn puckered her lips in imitation of their own, loving the fact they were kissing her at the same time.

  When Dev pulled Fletch toward him for a bruising kiss, Quinn sighed.

  "What happens after?"

  "We cuddle,” Fletch said, taking hold of her T-shirt and lifting it up her body. “We like to cuddle."

  "Fletch more so than me,” Dev said, his fingers going to work on Quinn's jean buttons. “But, that's a great start to the after."

  When Fletch pulled the shirt over her head, and his fingers began to expertly unclasp her bra, she shivered.

  "You know what I mean. Afterward ... when we're back home, I don't think I can stay in my room while you two..."

  Dev sat back on the balls of his feet, his face set in hard, angry lines.

  "Is that what you think? That we want you for only this week? How could you think so little of us?"

  "Dev,” Fletch said, his fingers working her bra straps from her shoulders. Quinn moved her hands in front of her chest to hold the clothing in place. “I told you we should have said something earlier."

  "We shopped for the bed together,” Dev said. “How could you not think...?"

  "Because you're gay, and I'm a female."

  "Sex isn't about male or female,” Dev said, reaching out to caress Quinn's arms. “It's about loving someone.” He moved his hands up and tugged on the bra.

  "Let go, Boo,” Fletch whispered in her ear as he sat behind her and pulled her into the V of his legs. He leaned back until she was lying on top of his lower body.

  Dev pulled the bra away from her and tossed it aside.

  "Yum,” he said softly. Then he lowered his head and captured a taunt nipple in his mouth. Quinn shivered in Fletch's arms as Dev suckled her.

  "Relax,” Fletch said. “Let us do all the work."

  "But what about..."

  "We've got baggies,” Fletch said. “Don't worry. Just relax and enjoy."

  Quinn stared up at the darkening sky as Dev's skilled lips moved from one nipple to the other. His hands massaged her expertly, moving over her torso and down her sides before gliding back up and pushing her breasts together.

  "You're so beautiful,” he said, his voice deep with desire.

  "Right,” she said, shaking her head. “That's why I'm an anchor right now."

  "Anchor or no, we know beauty when we see it, and it's with us right now.” Fletch's hands were massaged her scalp, his fingers drawing through her hair and sending tingles of desire throughout her body.

  Dev murmured his agreement as he kissed his way down her stomach, stopping at her bellybutton to tickle her innie with his tongue. When he reach
ed her undone jeans, he looked up at her with a lascivious grin. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and began to tug them down.

  "Lift your hips, Boo,” Fletch said softly.

  "Am I going to be the only one naked?” Quinn was comfortable with her body, but she didn't want to be the only one sitting out in the open au natural.

  "For the time being,” Dev said. “Right now it's about you. So just relax, like Fletch says."

  Quinn tried to follow their advice as Dev pulled her jeans and panties down her legs. Her heart beat wildly as his fingers traced back up her calves and around her knees. When he got to her thighs, she clasped them together.

  "Stop that,” Dev said. “Open wide for me."

  Quinn started to shake her head, but Fletch sat up and moved his hands from her hair to her breasts, thoroughly distracting her. His fingers tweaked her hardened nubs until she relaxed into him, her body like warm jelly.

  She was vaguely aware of Dev's fingers pushing her thighs apart and skimming upward until he came to the apex.

  "Look at this pretty pussy, Fletch. I think I'll have a taste."

  Dev dipped his head between her thighs and ran his tongue along her slit. Quinn shivered and bucked her hips up into face. Her movements met with murmurs of approval from both men, and Dev's tongue flicked out and parted her lips, dipping inside with a soft groan.

  "She's so wet,” he said, “and she tastes so very sweet.” His tongue ran up and down her folds, and Quinn, her head now resting on Fletch's thigh, twisted back and forth under his ministrations.

  "Dev, oh Dev, oh, oh ... yeah ... So good."

  His tongue circled her clit then pulled the pulsing nod into his mouth, sucking it in deeply and running his tongue back and forth over the sensitive tip.

  "I, oh...” Quinn wasn't sure what to do with her hands. She wanted to caress Dev's head as he drove her insane with his tongue, but she also wanted to caress Fletch, who continued to stroke her breasts.

  So, she did both. She put one hand on Dev's head, and the second on Fletch's hand. Fletch interlaced their fingers and guided her fingers to a nipple, which they twisted and turned together.