Chapter 13



Finally Camille was nearing the end of the out of control roller coaster ride that had become her life. For the last few months, for a few hours everyday, she could count on working with the children at Frazier High as a respite from the stress and the fear of the ever watchful eyes around her. But she should have known that any place of peace was just the calm before the storm. At least she could feel reasonably confident that her association with Lucien would end this weekend. That was the only thing that allowed her the ability to get on the Red Eye and jet to this Circus of the Simple and the Indolent.

Actually, it was lucky that she was able to get there early and try to curtail some of the more creative aspects of the party’s festive design. After what felt like the longest ride from the airport, she barely registered the tropical atmosphere as her thoughts meandered among the events of the night before. She was pretty much on autopilot when she left the car and climbed the steps of the ocean side mansion. What she saw when she entered the structure almost took her breath away-and not in a good way.

The house seemed to have been through a Rococo war, imitation Rococo at that. Unfortunately, the decor seemed to have lost every battle along the way. It seemed like some designer tried to take a good shot at class and elegance. Too bad he or she was missing three important qualities in interior design; taste, skill and a basic understanding of a color palate. Camille immediately set to work trying to wrestle a few of the most obviously ugly pieces from the areas that Lucien was entertaining in, but after an hour the room still looked a little too cheap chic.

A billion dollar budget with bordello taste, Camille thought to herself as she looked around the room and shook her head in defeat. Her efforts were futile, what the house needed couldn’t be provided in the hours before the party.

Where the hell is everybody? She could not help but think. Since she had been there she hadn’t seen but a handful of the help, those she enlisted to help her remove and/or reposition furniture.

“Camille, you have finally arrived,” a voice called out to her from the side of the room framed by glass.

Speaking of the devil, apparently when you called up evil it answers on cue. Camille gave a slight shudder at the thought. I will look for his Ouija board, the devil’s portal to the physical world, and destroy it later. Camille smirked to herself as she straightened to greet her employer for the weekend.

Lucien Michele was an outwardly handsome man. He had all the classic European looks, dark, tall, to some-delicious. But that all went to show that a little drywall can hide all manner of ugly. Along with many of his legitimate endeavors, only a precious few knew that he was one of the principals of the largest growing European crime cartels and the business was seeking to expand.

Camille took a moment to school her features. Unlike most men of her acquaintance, Lucien Michel scared her and his little mini sidekick made her stomach turn. Yes, Lucien’s right hand man had a real name, but for the life of her she could never remember what it was. Lucien called him Benny, but in her mind she called him “Little Man” because he is a man, and he is peculiarly little. No, he wasn’t Little Person, little. More like, everything about him seemed in deference to a larger, stronger personality. He was Lucian’s supplicant. He bowed to the throne of Lucien Michel. He also had the disconcerting trait of his eyes being everywhere at once. She had often caught him with his eyes on her. Something about him made her feel unclean. He was a little, weasel man and that made him equally as dangerous as the man he served.

“Yes Lucien, I arrived about an hour ago. I just saw a few things to straighten up around here.”

“Leave it, that's why I hired for a decorator.” He added with his smooth French accent.

Well, you need to ask for your money back. But instead of adding that tidbit she said instead, “It looks like everything is ready. Do you require anything else of me before the party?”

“Ah, ma Cherie, you ask a loaded question.” Lucien murmured as he stepped closer to Camille leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Too bad you and I do not share the same tastes in the bedroom.”

His very proximity to her and the thoughts his voice brought to her mind made hives break out along Camille’s arms. Camille had a number of clients who enjoyed a certain amount of rigor in the bedroom, for it they paid extra. But Lucien was one of the few who married passion with pain-the kind that was evidenced by a show of blood. Luckily, in the sex trade there was a sex worker for all type of tastes, his tastes was the type of work that Camille usually contracted out. Lucien and she had a clear understanding for his U.S. based events; her job was to provide a little elegance to what was looking like a pig’s ear of an evening. Any additional intimate responsibilities on his behalf, she had managed to avoid and she was determined to continue this feat.

Camille endeavored to swallow the bile that was slowly moving up her throat. “Lucien, though I am sure you have so much you could show me, I have brought a treat for you. She could not take the same flight, but I am sure that once you are ready to retire to your room, before the festivities, she will be there and would be so willing to help you… relax. Camille added a knowing, seductive smile to her offer.

Lucien answered her with a predatory grin, “Camille that is why I don’t mind paying you so much for your services. You think of everything. But one day you will name your price and I will have the intense joy of showing you how to pleasure me.” Lucien gazed at her with his Preying Mantis eyes, while capturing her hand and bringing it up to his lips.

That was it. There was no holding back the urge to vomit. She had to get out of there and she had to get out of there quick. She didn’t want to offer any discounts, or worse, because she projectile vomited all over her employer.

While still fighting the knot of repulsion making its way up her throat, she managed to croak out. “I want to make sure that I am perfect for your evening. Is my room upstairs?”

“Of course, I have a few things to check on and then I will go to my room to enjoy my treat. Benny will show you to your room.” With that, Lucien dismissed her and walked away.

Oh sweet Jesus-Benny. Camille cast a look at the cretin in question. As always, Benny was looking at her like she was nude, had a price tag above her head and he was simply counting his pennies to see if he had enough to make his purchase. She knew what Lucien craved in the bedroom and she didn’t want to even consider how “Little Man’s” taste ran. Somehow she knew it would shock even her world weary soul.

“Benny, I know you probably have a million things to do. Just point me in the right direction and I can find my own way to the room.” She sighed with a poor imitation of a smile.

Benny eyes narrowed in response, “I do exactly as Mr. Michele asks. I will show you to your room.” He gestured, indicating that he wished Camille to walk in front of him.

Camille paused for a moment and walked ahead, all the while knowing that Benny was silently inventorying every curve and crevice of her body. Silently she recited to herself all the reasons that she was working this particular weekend and for this particular employer. At the stairs she abruptly turned and caught Benny with his eyes almost attached to her ass. Silently, she waited until his eyes leisurely made their way up her body to meet her own. She made clear through her countenance that he either would have to take a picture, or pay like everyone else. There were no free peeks here.

With a greedy little grin, Benny walked uncomfortably close, passing her on the step and continued up the steep slope to show her to her room. Camille knew she had won that little test of wills, but she was also equally aware that she didn’t want to push it. Somehow her intuition told her that Lucien held the reins on that sick little puppy, and it wouldn’t be to her advantage to test how tight those reins really were. As Camille climbed the stairs to her room, and hoped that some fairy god mother would spread a little fairy dust on the catastrophe that was sure to be her evening.
 
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A couple of hours into the evening, Camille were pretty clear that her fairy godmother was on a permanent lunch break. Lucien seemed displeased by something, and he was constantly looking at the entrance like he was waiting for someone to arrive. A jumpy Lucien was an unnerved and unbalanced one. Call her silly, but Camille liked her “crazy” quantifiable and right now Lucien, and his “Little Man” by extension, were strung a little too tight to be predictable. Camille’s game plan was to keep her distance from them while doing her duty in making sure that the guests had all their needs met and attended to. Hopefully, when all hell broke loose, that would keep her out of the line of fire.

Later in the evening, by the time Lucien’s little man tapped her on the shoulder she was truly desperate for the evening to end. Yet as she turned at his direction to greet some new arrivals, she almost swallowed her tongue. She swore to herself silently, if she didn’t have bad luck she wouldn’t have any luck at all. Before her stood two of the most beautiful men she had hoped to never see again. To allow these two specimens of manliness to wear tuxedos and set them loose on the world seemed like a gross infractions of one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Lust. Correction: maybe two, because it had to be Gluttony that made her want to just look, and look, and look… Too bad they were both on her shit list.

The next few moments passed in a heartbeat. She knew she picked up two glasses of champagne, she remembered passing Carrick a glass. Did he really call her a venereal disease? Yea, that was kind of funny and appealed to her dark humorous side. Touché. She really hadn’t spit in the Champagne, yet it was fun telling him that she did. For a moment she lost herself-playing toe to toe with Carrick was at least stimulating.

Then that icy feeling crept up her spine. She trusted that feeling. It was that feeling that helped her know which potential clients could be trouble and which ones were relatively safe. That feeling was her self preservation meter, too bad it didn’t do her any damn good in this situation. The choice of whether to take Lucien as a client was taken out of her hands a long time ago. Now all she could do was follow through and hope she could make it through this mine field with as few casualties as possible. Before she could turn her attention to Malcolm, she felt Lucien press himself against her side, while sliding his arm around her waist. The effect was like having Hannibal Lector looking at her with a sexual interest; the feeling again triggered her gag reflex while also terrifying her. But she was a professional and damn if she wasn’t going to play her role to the “T”.

“Ah Lucien, I was greeting our new guests. I am sure you know Mr. Carrick Caudwell and Mr. Malcolm Chambers.” Camille handed Malcolm the other flute of champagne, which she was still holding. As she leaned close to Mal, she looked at them both with eyes that begged the both, especially Carrick, for once, to play along and shut his mouth.

Carrick was placed in an interesting position. The diabolical part of him wanted to do exactly the opposite of Camille’s silent request. After all, she has been pushing his buttons from the moment he set eyes on her. This could be some very deserving pay back, but then he felt Mal subtly step closer to him. He immediately knew what that meant. Mal had also caught the look in her eyes and he knew what Carrick was contemplating. Carrick did not have to turn around to hear Mal’s message loud and clear, if he ever wanted any more than a self-administered, five finger massage action for the foreseeable future, he better show some restraint and get with the program. Although, it seemed, he didn’t have to do anything to add to the drama of the moment.

“Actually, I don’t think we have been formally introduced. Camille, thank you for doing the honors, but I can take over now, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Wesley were asking after you.” Neither Mal nor Carr missed that as Michele talked he seemed to tighten his grip on Camille’s arm so that she took a few steps away from them to avoid his increased pressure.

God knows he had no love lost regarding Camille and every time he was in her presence he seemed to always lose his notoriously iron clad control. But he generally did not have anything but contempt for any man who put his hands on a woman. He knew Camille tried to hide it, but he saw her wince and by the way he felt Malcolm tense he knew that his lover saw it too. What was more curious to him was Camille’s reaction to the Lucien’s grip on her.

Carr was waiting for her to give Michele hell. But maybe this is the new and improved Camille, or the one that is on the job, because it sort of shocked him that she didn’t tell Michele to kiss her ass and then force him to watch it as she walked away, all the while shaking her “money maker” in abject defiance. That Camille, if he was forced to admit it, he admired, but this one he had never met before. Somewhere lurking in her eyes was feigned confidence with a heavy edge of fear. Carrick cut his eyes to Malcolm. He knew that Malcolm saw it too, and when Carr looked down he saw that Mal had his hands tightly clenched into fists.

It was then that Carr realized that their host was still talking to them, totally oblivious that there was about to be an international incident in the middle of his party.

“Camille, go along and let the others know that Mr. Caudwell and Mr. Chambers have arrived. Gentlemen, I am sure you wouldn’t mind getting some business out of the way first, before we enjoy the weekend- I think we will be much more comfortable in the library.” Their host offered both men an ingratiating grin.

Camille also saw Mal’s reaction to Lucien’s rough handling of her and knew she had to diffuse the situation quickly. Funny enough, she also saw a flash of something in Carrick’s eyes, something….protective? The stress of the evening must have been getting to her, because when she next glanced in his direction she could see his smart ass, privileged, veneer was firmly in place. Back to damage control.

Casually, crossing her arms across her chest, while surreptitiously rubbing the area that Lucien has bruised, “I will see to the Wesley’s’ and make sure your other associates meet you in the library.” Camille added with seductive smile aimed directly at the Lucien, “I will also be sure that a bottle of that special port you like is sent to the room, I am sure you would like to share it.”

“Lucien barely spared her a glance as he began to walk his guests down the hall toward the side of the house, “Sure, please do so quickly,” dismissing Camille with every step.

Malcolm and Carrick took a moment to look at her, as if to await her direction regarding the evening’s curious direction. Camille had begun to walk toward the other guests and spared a glance over her shoulder and realized that they were still looking at her. She turned and made a small waving motion, in effect trying to persuade them to follow their host. Slowly both men turned with puzzled frowns on their faces as they followed in Lucien’s wake.

As they walked away, Camille could hear Carrick offering his apologies that they were so late, they had some issues to attend to with one of their overseas affiliates and their lateness could not be helped. All she could remember thinking, as she watched them stride away with their host was, Why are they here, and how can I make them leave?

Suddenly a waiter came out of nowhere and jostled her out of her reverie. For a split second they exchanged an intense gaze. Then Camille remembered she had a job to do. It was time to earn her keep. Unfortunately, she could not spare any more moments thinking about Carrick and Malcolm. They had no idea the size of the crap pile they had just stepped into; but when in Hell, it’s every man, or woman, for themselves.
Camille moved on to her duties-keeping the natives happy.

 

Chapter 14

Finally, Mal had managed to pull himself from the conversation between Lucien and Carrick; very little of the discussion was directed toward him anyway. Little did the Lucien know, but his physical handling of Camille made him a total "write off" in Malcolm's book.If Malcolm had any say about it, Caudwell Inc. will not be entering into any relationships, business or otherwise, with Lucien Michele and his merry band of men. Still, it was clear that their host only had eyes for the CEO for Caudwell Industries.There was an added level of amusement in watching the Frenchman try to pitch his importance to Carrick; Malcolm could see Carrick's mental tape play through his eyes, "GETMEOUTTTAHERE, GETMEOUTTAHERE, GETMEOUTTAHERE."

It was also slightly creepy, the vibe in the room.Michel had introduced the additional occupants in the room as business partners in some of his various business interests.Most importantly, the president of the cosmetics company that Caudwell was interested in acquiring was among the men present.Still, atmosphere of the room didn't seem so much as, "lets get the know the players" and see if they are interested in selling a failing division of their company, but more like they were feeling Carrick out for some else entirely different.Normally, Malcolm would try to pry Carrick from the clueless man's grasp, but he had bigger fish to fry.Camille was out there and he needed to find her.Carrick was a big boy-he could do his own dirty work. Mal couldn't help but to send Carrick a grin as he made his excuses ad closed the door on Carrick panicked eyes and their host's pontifications.As he walked away from the closed door, Malcolm could not help himself but chuckle aloud.

It wasn't so hard finding Camille.There was something really weird about this whole setup.He found a waiter, and he recognized him as the one who had abruptly bumped into Camille as she was walking away earlier, when Carrick and he were about to enter the room with Michele.The man had to know who he was talking about when he inquired after Camille, but it seemed like the man was going to play like he didn't know who Malcolm was talking about.Then something changed, almost abruptly the waiter directed Malcolm to the terrace.

Malcolm didn't waste a second; the waiter had barely finished directing Mal to the -doors before Mal began to move toward them, easily sidestepping all the other guests gathering around him trying to initiate conversations.Finally, he was able to slip out the door into the balmy evening.He had moved far along the railing before he saw her.She was tucked into a corner, leaning over the railing enjoying the breeze that was flowing from the water.

Mal soaked in the moment of watching her while she was unaware.He realized that there was a color that she associated to herself when she was working; some tone of red.This evening her dress seemed righteously opulent in a deep sheer burgundy.Again, she set herself apart.While the other women attending the party draped themselves in bright electric colors, or subdued pastels, Camille distinctively set herself apart with her deep red dress that fit snugly to her body, from the deep swell of her breasts to the inviting bowl of her hips. The dress was an instrument of indecent perversity, it seemed to be made of sheer layers giving him the feeling that if he concentrated carefully he could easily see through all its gossamer filaments to the nude body beneath.It was clear, even from the distance where he stood, that the dress brokered no deals for clever undergarments to camouflage the dress's barely there construction.No, this perfect dress required the perfect form; like Cinderella and her glass slipper- imposters or imitators would suffer a fool's reward if they dared tried to step into perfections place.It awed Malcolm that every time her saw her, she seemed to grow more….stunning.Mal could no long keep himself at a distance; his body compelled him to move closer.

As he drew nearer, she didn't look up as she spoke quietly, "Malcolm, what are you both doing here.I hope you didn't follow me."

Malcolm grinned to himself as he drew up to her side and watched the sea with her, "Camille, it good to know that Carrick has not cornered the market on self-importance.No, we are not here because of you-this is business.It was a shock to see you, but I am glad you are here."

She did not know if she believed him, so she sighed as she turned fully so that she could gaze into Mal's eyes.In a heartbeat, all of her resentment and anger dissipated, she actually felt a little foolish as she reminded herself of her behavior from the night before.It was clear, it should have always been apparent, those eyes belonged to her friend.The one who had learned, what some would consider some ugly things and could still look at her like that, with warmth and maybe something more.She had to warn him.

"Mal, don't stay and don't do business with Lucien.All I can say is that you would be doing yourself a favor by getting onto your boat and traveling to a more hospitable place, like Afghanistan.

Mal stepped even closer to Camille, some scent, sweet and seductive wafted off of her body. Still, he made himself concentrate on her eyes."Well first of all, Afghanistan is land locked, so it would be pretty hard to sail to." Mal winked at her as he offered his little geography lesson. "And if this weekend is going to be so bad or these people so dangerous, why are you here? Why are you with him?" Mal stepped closer to her.She looked entrancing; it reminded him of the night before where the moon played across her hair and face.Hopefully he would get the opportunity to right what went so wrong only twenty-four hours before.

Camille gave him a cute little smirk, "Ok smarty pants, you may know your geography, but I can tell you this-run, do not walk away from this house and forget ever being here."

Mal's response was immediate, "Come with us."

Camille gave a small secret smile and turned back to her view of the water, "I am a paid employee.I may be nontraditional, but I have made a commitment nonetheless.I cannot leave."

"I will pay you more than triple than what Michele is paying you.Just grab my hand and let's turn around and leave."

Mal couldn't begin to understand how beguiling his offer was.It had been a long time since a man, or anyone, had offered her security, a chance to let down her guard.Camille turned and catalogued all the special little idiosyncrasies that made up Mr. Malcolm Chambers.His skin was so smooth and unblemished it seemed as edible as the finest, most decadent, dark chocolate.His brown eyes were beacons to anyone who was hurting, scared, and vulnerable.Here was a man who would do his best to understand and protect.Camille wanted so much to lay her burdens down or at least let someone help her shoulder the weight. But that was not her way.She learned a long time ago the only person she could completely count on was herself-this was not a time to make any drastic changes to how she navigated her life.Oh, but in another time, in another life - she would have loved to have the opportunity to belong in those arms.

Suddenly, she made a decision that she did not pause to reconsider.

Camille turned to Malcolm, again looking deep into his eyes.She let all of her shields go down.She opened the locks to all the secrets she had hidden and silently allowed Malcolm to gaze in their depths and release the mystery of the real her.Slowly, all the while lightly brushing her fingertips across the high ridge of his jaw, she drew him to her. Camille allowed her body to rise to the tips of her toes so that she could have a small taste of the man before her.She didn't want to ask for much, she knew he belonged to another, but something in her soul knew that if she just had a trifle of what this man had to offer she could keep the memory of the sample for the rest of her life.Maybe it would make breathing, living easier.

Continuing eye contact until it could not be maintained any longer, Camille touched his lips with the briefest hint of her own.For a second the sensation forced her eyes to close while she committed the texture, the feeling, and emotion to memory.Then she opened her eyes again to meet his and saw Mal's hunger.She could not contain herself. Again, Camille leaned in to touch her lips to his and this time she allowed her tongue to leisurely slide itself along the seam of his lips.It was the most erotic thing she had ever felt.For all her experience and all of their kiss's chasteness, she had never felt her body vibrate to a tune such as what was playing now.Somehow her hands had fallen in subjugation to the greater desire of her lips and for an untold sweet, sexy moment the only part of her that was touching him was their lips.

Something was unlocked in Mal.He recongnized that all her defenses were down and she was offering him something, maybe something that she had never offered any other before.Her lips on his was more that he could have hoped for, or never dared act upon, for the thought that she would pull away from him,or that their physical connection could be extinguished was unbearable. Without due consideration, quickly, he took over control of the kiss.Malcolm could only see a stream of steamy pictures playing through his mind; Camille with her mouth between his legs, him between her legs-leisurely lapping at the effusive stream of her want, and him looking into her eyes the first time he eased himself into the molten kiss of her body.At first he was stunned to stillness when she placed her first feather light kiss to his lips.Evidently the paralyzing effects of her lips were so strong that he was unable to move, breath, think as she placed the second one.The experience of touching her was so very different than Carrick.It should have been so very obvious but in every way that Carr was solid and strong, Camille was pliant and delicate. She was just as intoxicating as Carr, but in such a different way. 

Oh Fuck, Carr!Mal winced at the thought.

With what was left of his good sense, Malcolm silently sent up a prayer that Carr would be able to forgive him for this moment.Nothing in him was helping him generate enough strength to push away from this woman.In fact, he hands were wandering up her body to cup the smooth curve of her ass, so that he could pull her closer to him, closer to his heat, hopefully to cool off one of the more tender areas of his insistent body.Malcolm was instantly beyond all thoughts of cheating and consequences.His rational brain sat helpless as his body and libido issued orders that held it hostage.

Camille had not pegged him for a dominant, but he took her in his arms and pried loose any remaining barrier holding her back from him.He delved deep between her lips, coaxing a moan that drew her to hold on to him. Camille felt a strong slender hand cup her rear and guide her body to push even closer against him, her leg drew itself up against his body, finally wrapping itself around his waist, as if she was a marionette doll and some other worldly force was pulling her strings.Camille was incoherent with need.A taste would no longer do, she wanted all of him; she needed to feel the touch of someone who knew her and maybe loved her …a little.

Carrick was watching it all.While he was in the room with Lucien he had to finally tell his host that he had heard enough.He asked Lucien, to just send the paperwork on the deal and he would review it and see if the deal was workable.While the men in the room were adjusting themselves to Carrick's blunt approach, he then politely excused himself from their presence.As soon as he closed the door on his host and associates, he went looking for Mal.If he had three choices to where he could find his lover, he knew that the first two did not count.If he could find Camille-he knew he would find Mal.

As Carrick eased himself onto the terrace, at first he could not see the couple he was looking for.Then he walked along the length of the railing and saw more than he could imagine.As Camille eased toward Mal and kissed him, Carrick felt all the air is his body evaporate with hardly a sound, while he watched perhaps the most provocative, carnal sexual play that he had seen for a long while.

Carrick couldn't help it.In his most secret sensual fantasies he was a voyeur.The best part of their very occasional threesomes, was watching the desire in his lover's face-imagining that the play of emotions were similar to when Carrick was bringing him over.Carrick enjoyed sitting by the bed while Mal was being touched and stimulated by another.But something was always missing; it was never as intense as it was when it was just them, alone.Sometimes it was slightly awkward.Carrick could never get rid of the feeling that Mal was only responding to the sight of Carrick's arousal from their fleeting sexual triad. Malcolm may not have been reacting to the effects of having a willing woman participant joining their libidinous love games.

As Carr stood watching he waited for the heat of anger to come.The wave of disappointment with Mal was there, but what surprised him the most was that his anger and jealousy did not overwhelm all rational thought.Seeing them wrapped around each other brought about a completely different response.The sight of their entwined bodies made him visualize stripping them each slowly and conjuring delightful ways to make them pay for each moment that they had chose to overlook his existence. But, of course, he couldn't let them get off so easily.Slowly, Carrick moved closer into their little alcove and he began to loudly clap in a slow rhythmic way.

Something was intruding into Mal's mind.Was that clapping?

Mal tore himself from Camille to look up at the source of the sound.

Like a magnet, his eyes immediately found Carrick's.

Looking into the cold golden depths of Carr's eyes was like a slap in the face to Mal.Everything about him instantly sobered, yet Camille was making motions with her body like a baby blindly trying the find her mother's breast.Slowly, Mal attempted to soother her with his arms and then leaned it to press his cheek against hers, he whispered. "It's Carr."

At first Camille was so incoherent with the building need in her body that she could only register the small adjustment of Mal slowly and protectively moving his body away from her. She almost wept from the separation.Then her mind finally registered exactly what he said and the sound of clapping behind her.

Camille whirled around in a panic.She knew that Carrick had been dangerous with only the suspicion that she had designs on Mal.Before it hadn't been the truth, but now with the evidence staring him in the face, she honestly did not know what he was capable of and she didn't have any defense against it-she was absolutely, totally in the wrong.She had crossed boundaries that she hadn't any business being near.It didn't matter that Mal had crossed them with her.She had made the first move and that made her the most culpable.

She stared at Carrick with a fear unlike anything she had ever felt for Lucien or "Little Man".It didn't matter what he said or did to her, she fear was what may happen between Carrick and Mal.

As Carrick stepped in closer to her, he looked at her with a queer look in his eyes.

"Carr, this wasn't her fault….." Mal began in a desperate attempt to shoulder the blame.

Carr looked up at Mal, his eyes saying volumes-words that had no translation in the English language. "Shut up."Carr quietly hissed at Mal.

Tears sprang to Camille eyes as she watched Carrick snap at his lover.Instinctively, blindly, she reached out to Carr, irrationally thinking that her touch may somehow calm him down.

The cold speculative gleam on Carr's face stopped Camille's hand in mid air, only centimeters before she would have actually touched his body.His incredulous look gave her all the confirmation she needed that it was pretty smart of her to rethink placing any part of her on him.Still, Carrick stood so close to Camille that she could almost chart the course of her retribution oscillating in his eyes.It was curious; he was standing close, yet not so close that so much as a molecule of him was touching her.Camille craned her neck to look up at him, mesmerized by all of his lion-like, golden glory.He was beautiful and terrible; breathtaking in his quiet fury. In a small part of her mind she observed; this must be what prey felt like right before the lion pounces, he completely overwhelms you.Before you even have had the inclination to put up a defense, he has taken you down.

Carrick slowly circled Camille, "Maybe I should inquire regarding whether you are running a little two for one deal?You know what, better yet, maybe I should just see for myself." Without another sound Carrick swooped in and grabbed Camille's head in his vise like hands and penetrated her lips with his tongue.There was nothing sweet or seductive about his touch, he was meting out her punishment-pure and simple.Constantly and consistently he head dove in to discipline her for her temerity in presuming to touch what was his.Then somehow, slowly the kiss changed. Either something weakened in Carrick, or strengthened his determination to punish.Camille found herself now holding onto Carrick as she felt him commanding a response from her body.His touch was so different than that of Mal's, still the call of whatever was feral in her only matched the fierceness in him.They were literally inhaling each other. His kiss, once vicious in its intensity, smoothed out and showed the skill of a man who was accomplished at the dance of seduction and power.

What Camille could not see was what was going on above her head.After Carrick had finished executing his first lesson on betrayal, he decided to continue he lecture in another vein.As he began to torture a response out of Camille using every ounce of sexual skill in his repertoire he sighed in triumph as Camille held on to him and moaned her pleasure.Carrick then looked up at Malcolm with exultation for his victory.You thought she responded like that only to you, you bitch!Then Carrick turned up the heat, languorously he allowed his hands to run his hand along the sides of Camille's body.Camille was almost purring in approval.As his hand dipped to each curve and finally paused at the full arch of her breast, he made sure that Mal was watching.With each response that he wrenched from her body, he taunted Mal.His eyes mocked Mal as he watched Mal's lust and anger grow.

Carrick eyes threw down the gauntlet; You don't like what I am doing? Let see if you can do better.

Malcolm felt as if his body was being possessed by someone else.He knew that under normal circumstances he would never use anybody like this.The only problem was that the scene playing before him was so hot.Watching Carrick kiss Camille was like a being caught in the desert without fresh water and watching someone drinking the last of the supply; watching every gulp going down another's throat and your own body mimicking the action in its own thirst.

Malcolm felt his body step forward so that the front of his body touched the back of Camille's, until her ass was hugged between his thighs.

Carrick held his eyes.Every step that Mal took only brought a deeper smile from Carrick's eyes.As Mal moved as close as he could to Camille he sent a look mercy to Carrick.But Carr would stand for nothing less than annihilation, even from the man he most loved, maybe because it was the person he most loved. When they brought another into their intimate life it was always with the consent of the other.Carrick sought to remind Mal that his escapade on the terrace with Camille was beneath him and betrayed them.

Slowly, while still kissing Camille, Carrick clasp each of Mal's hand and brought them around Camille's body to rest on her breasts.Camille's reaction to Mal's touch was to almost slump between them.The stimulation was too intense.The feel of a man in front of her as well as nestled in her back almost made her hysterical with need.

Carrick released her lips and knelt down to grab her legs and wrapped them around his body.His tutorial on respect and submission was now over.Camille felt too good.Malcolm's desire was too hot – he was no longer able to control his own response to what was going on.He only wanted to feel the passion that was overwhelming them all.He was going to fuck Camille and then he was going to remind Malcolm why he would always belong to Carrick. Slowly he began to grind himself into Camille, with each rotation he wrung out a hyperventilated breath from her lips.

Mal was helping Carrick negotiate Camille's slight weight, behind her he was also slowly rotating his hips, desperately drilling himself between the globes of her ass.All that anyone can hear is their quiet harmony of, "yes, yes, yes…."

Carrick took a step backward and moved a little to the right so that he could use the railing to brace his weight. It made it easier to do what he planned next.Carrick searched Mal's face as he held Camille fully in his arms.Then captured his lover's hands once again, and slid both under her dress.At the touch of Camille's moist heat they all almost collapsed with pleasure.Now, it was time for Camille to grind as two very different fingers plunged into her depths.She pushed hard at their fingers almost grunting with the effort to get their digits to touch that honey spot deep within.Suddenly her eyes flew open, her body convulsed with sensation and her head fell back and she caught sight of Carrick and Malcolm, as she leaned heavily against Mal's chest.

It was then that she opened her eyes to see Malcolm's and Carrick's contest of wills.The revelation instantly made her unwrap her legs from around Carrick as she almost fell to her knees. Something in her broke and simultaneously cut the tenuous strings of intimacy between them.As she startled at the realization of her precarious position, Carrick caught her and tried to help her right herself.Sanity was like an ice cold bath.This excruciating experience of sensation, she realized had nothing to do with her.The men who had her sandwiched between them, the ones who has just brought her body to heights that she had never dreamed of, with just the friction of their bodies and the play of their fingers, were consummate duelers and her body was just the forum for their fight.

"Shit!" Camille swore to herself, trying to gather the tiny bits of her composure.

For the second time in a twenty-four hour period Camille felt more like a whore than she had ever felt before. Camille violently pushed herself away from Carrick, away from his help, and found herself falling back into Mal's arms.Camille had the sensation that she was in a some strange fun house where everything is pulling at her and every entrance is really a dead end.Camille let out a sob in her frustration.Angry at allowing, even for a moment, someone in, to learn the lesson, again, that life and circumstance only wanted to cast her as a victim-a role she had believed that she was halfway successful in fighting.

Carrick sought to fill the silence, "Camille, I am sorry-I went too far."

"Please just go-you got what you wanted from me." Camille clutched the dress to her body, somehow the zipper had been released in their shared passion.She felt so exposed, she couldn't find a modicum of brovada to throw in Carrick's face – as far as she was concerned he had paid her back in full.She hoped he choked on his victory.

Carrick looked helplessly at Malcolm.

Malcolm looked like he wanted to deck him.

Malcolm moved toward Camille, wordless trying to offer some silent apology for…..everything.

Camille felt him at her back, she could almost envision his arms extended of offer her some type of solace.The idea that he might actually touch her was unbearable – she knew that she would crack into a thousand little pieces at the very hint of his need to comfort her.Make no mistake, the combination of both of these men was lethal to her sanity."Mal, please don't.Just go."She couldn't look at him.

Both men looked at each other, turned and walked toward the terrace doors-a matching pair of gorgeous.Though they walked along side each other they were a world apart.

What no one noticed, was a man of short stature following silently behind them.