Interracial Erotica -
The Lion's Pride: Installment 19-Part II
By Olga Coleman-Williams
Published on August 21, 2012
Malcolm and Carrick have a loving, mature and stable relationship. With the introduction of the mysterious Camille into their lives, will everything they hold dear be destroyed, or will she provide the missing link to giving them all they never knew they desired.


Installment 19-Part II

When Camille began nibbling at that sweet spot right behind his ear Carrick cursed softly for self control and unceremoniously pulled Camille over his shoulder so her derriere smartly saluted the air.

His rearrangement of her hardly made her skip a beat. Camille just had a better view of something that she had been in awe of for several weeks. She hardly noted the blood rushing to her head or the bounce of her body with each no-nonsense stride. Her eyes had quickly locked and loaded onto another target. She couldn’t help it. She was as helpless as a kleptomaniac in a Dollar Store.Even covered by beat-up sweat shorts his ass had her complete attention. She knew that Carrick’s control was tenuous at best, and smart money advised that caution should rule while she was in such a vulnerable position, but What the hell! She could throw on one of her blonde wigs and play dumb later-now she was going to thoroughly enjoy herself.

Carrick almost stumbled the moment he felt Camille’s hands push their way past the band of his shorts and palm the globes of his ass. He stopped abruptly in shock and caught the incredulous look on his face in a nearby mirror.

“Motherfucker!” Slipped out of his mouth as her finger traced the seam along the cheeks of his ass.

He was going to fuck her so good. He was going to fuck her so hard… He was going to fuck her in this hallway, if she didn’t stop playing around. It wasn’t that he some deep seated distain for hallway sex, but it would make him seem desperate for her.Caudwell’s didn’t do desperate. Yeah, maybe her licking her finger and using that moisture to rub against that ring of muscles that he was trying like hell not to clench so hard that she could lose the wayward digit, might be making a fine sheen of sweat appear on his brow. He could see how some confused individual may argue presperation could be evidence that he might be at the end of his rope, but he’d never cop to it.

No. He was going to fuck them and he was going to fuck them in his damn bed- all in good, damn time, all good and damn proper. He snarled in his frustrated mind. Camille was not going to make him loose his control.

As if to punctuate the thought, he drew his hand up and slapped her ass. He might have put a little too much force behind it, but she should be glad that he didn’t stop, put her over his knee and spanked her until she cried or came.When in hell did the route from the pool to his bedroom become so long? He thought to himself when the slap to her bottom elicited a low moan from Camille in response.

Camille knew she was in trouble
, but she had to touch him. Was that dip in his flank ridiculously toned muscle, or was it some measure of strategic lighting and mass hypnosis? When he slapped her ass so hard she knew that she could probably find an imprint of his hand on it, the rational part of her mind tried to insert a little caution…perhaps a little good ole fashioned fear for the tiger she was inexplicably tickling. He and she had been testing the incendiary heat between them for what seemed like ages, and now any resistance between them was non-existent. In her mind, like the death of a supernova, their lovemaking would annihilate everything and anything in their path. There are times when one just knows that another is their counterpart-their equal. Carrick and Camille wore their confidence notoriously…audaciously and they had met their match.

Abruptly, Camille was swung from Carrick’s and she landed all elbows and heels on the bed.One eye caught a glimpse of her surroundings. She that she was in the bedroom, but the other eye was on Carrick.Every predator deserved respect. And If she didn’t missed her guess the fierce gleaming, lion-god before her was in no mood for fooling around. Good. Tricks were for kids. She smugly smirked to herself. She settled back and crooked her finger at Carrick from between her legs.

They eyed each other like boxing opponents-their eyes promising the most pleasurable T.K.O. Carrick crouched on the bed and moved in for the kill…his eyes danced with their usual game of dare.

Then the atmosphere within the room transformed. The call of his name from another voice beyond them altered space.

Mal walked in the room and knew what was going on- a pissing contest. The same ole test of wills - another battle of the gladiators. Malcolm had no time for it and this moment was too precious to let Carrick fuck it up,so he called Carrick’s name.

“Carrick.” Malcolm’s bassy tone seemed to call Carrick to heel.

Camille’s chest couldn’t help but deflate at Carrick’s immediate halt at the sound of Malcolm’s voice but if Camille didn’t see it for herself, she would have never believed it. Carrick did answer to another power…Malcolm. Something was in play in that room that she couldn’t completely wrap her mind around. Still, she immediately she realized that the person who made all of this make sense had just entered the room and his voice was full of warning.

For a moment Carrick felt as if he as stuck in some type of stasis. The call of his name by Malcolm called him to himself. He was about to treat Camille like every other woman he’d brought back to their apartment (never the homes) for his sexual convenience. He was about to plunge in and saturate himself in the feel of fucking a warm, willing, soft body, only to wake up later in shame, topped with the look of disappointment in Malcolm’s eyes. Had he only just a hour earlier asked Mal to think about these steps carefully? He was about to make the same old mistakes, just because his libido and ego wanted to run the show.

Camille was confused. Did Malcolm want them to stop? She thought he wanted them all to be together as much as she did? Had she misread…everything? She watched as Carrick slowly, almost haltingly turn and look toward Malcolm over his left shoulder. When Carrick turned to her again, something in his eyes melted, leaving only vulnerability and need in his glittering orbs.Before in the library, she felt close to him, but she realized now that he had been holding back. Carrick, with Malcolm a few feet behind him, had just now laid himself bare.

Camille felt a shiver of fear. She realized the she had always painted Carrick with the brush of fearlessness, with moments of humanity. Tonight she found him as human as anyone else. Stunning in his normality being racked with indecision and trepidation. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be introduced to this particular Carrick at that particular moment. She was about to jump of a precipice and she kinda wanted someone in the group to know what the fuck they were doing. Somehow in her mind, she thought that would be Carrick.

Sliding suddenly backward on the bed so that the front of the mattress hit his knees, Carrick pushed away from Camille. .If  she hadn’t been watching him so closely she might have missed it, Carrick’s proud bearing seemed to fold into itself by a fraction.For the first time that she could remember in an intimate situation, she didn’t have a plan or the faintest clue of what to do. Her mind was a jumble and in contrast her limbs felt hot and heavy. So she waited, quietly cataloging the strands of his golden shorn hair, lightly peppered with strands of grey-uncertainty filling the room in the midst of this sexual stand-off.

As he sat on the bed, Carrick found himself at a loss. He felt Mal’s eyes on him and recognized the need in himself was echoed his lover. The poignancy of the moment confronted and confused him. For years he had done this, allowed his gluttonous urges for the uniqueness of being with a woman to interfere with their most intimate moments. He always wrapped himself with the rationalization that it enhanced the love making between he and Mal. So many times he foolishly argued that the others were an appetizer, not the main course. In the past, during one of his hot little sessions he would look over to see an impassive Malcolm.Mal’s detachment would annoy him, spurring Carrick on to more outrageousness. In his mind, Malcolm was always the audience. Carricks job was to force his audience to a standing ovation-force his lover into the play-even if it was against Malcolm’s interests. Now Carrick realized how it was all a farce.

Carrick tightened his grip on the mattress under him.The enormity of his fuck-up left him weak.He felt like he could all over at any minute and prayed that his wasn’t what a heart attack felt like. Mal had only ever wanted him. He had repaid that regard by constantly testing the limits of Mal’s love.

When he was in prep school he messed around with other boys because he knew it would get around to his father…No. Time for the truth. He fucked around with other boys because he was attracted to them and the fact that his fucking them would get to his father was just a bonus. He slept with women for the same reasons and he knew it threw his parents of their game. His parents never knew what to expect from him and their inability to anticipate his actions assured him of a modicum of their attention. His father never broached the subject of his sexual activities, but the summer his father out about them, Carrick was immediately summoned to spend every free holiday working at Caudwell International. Time spent with lots of female support staff assigned to him and under the watchful, yet distant, eye of dear ole dad.

Since then Carrick had settled into his bisexuality pretty comfortably until Mal came along with his need for Carrick to declare himself in a gay relationship.Wasn’t it enough that he moved Mal intoh is homes and Carrick could barely think of a life without him? Anyone with any good sense knew that he was in a relationship with another man.

At least the tabloids seemed to have caught on.Carrick though wryly.Last time he checked, a picture of them together, in flagrante, could fetch a cool seven figures. No, Mal wanted to carry Carrick to all types of LAMDA award ceremonies honoring the gay celebrity of the month.Did Mal really need all that to make their life okay? Carrick realized that he was bullshitting himself again. Mal needed reassurance of Carrick’s commitment because Carrick had put the doubt there. Carrick was always careful to keep the intimacy of their relationship within an environment that he could control. The fucking threesomes all but shouted that Mal wasn’t enough. Carrick remembered all the times he purposefully pushed past Malcolm’s quiet disdain to provoke Mal to join him with their nameless play partner. Why do I need the man I love to prove his love? Carrick lifted his head and looked and for a moment stared at the man he knew he would never deserve. He didn’t bother the hide the shame in his eyes, and sighed in relief at the sight of only forgiveness and love in Mal’s eyes. The realization made the weakness in his limbs turn into fullness in his heart. He finally understood love, and bearing evidence of it should never be a test, but a testimony.

He didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. Being in this room with yet another woman between them seemed like the makings of another fucking mistake. Still, Camille reached out to his heart too. How was he going to make this all work when his ego was the devil on his shoulder? Carrick shook his head with his indecision.The push and pull of his inability to make a choice was driving him crazy. Somehow he knew that messing this up with Camille could be a deal breaker for all of them.

He was back to where they started. Carrick ducked his head as if he was in prayer. He didn’t want his lover to see his bewilderment. Now, what was he supposed to do?

From across the room Malcolm watched Carrick falter. He had never seen Carrick seem so unsure of his next step. Mal couldn’t help but stop them when he first stepped into the room.A few moments before, Carrick and Camille were egging each other on with a game of chicken.These next set of choices that they were going to take, needed to be taken with care-not in a haze of lust with only regret and recrimination after the fog cleared. No, Mal wanted this and he knew that Carrick wanted it just as badly, but he stood firm on doing it a better way.

Never breaking eye contact with Carrick, Mal walked across the room to Carrick. Mal squatted until on knee hit the floor in front of Carrick and cradled his lover face in his hands with reverence.Mal was overwhelmed with gratefulness for what he had with the man in front of him. But their love had changed; it grew and had tentacles and now included another. Mal leaned in to kiss the mate whose face he gently supported. Mal tried to infuse the kiss with every reassurance that he could conjure and enumerable promises of love and devotion.He poured himself into his lover.

The kiss had a life of its own.

Malcolm felt Carrick slight hesitancy. If he needed any proof that Camille being a partner in their bedroom and in their lives was going to be a different than any experience before, then this was all the proof that he needed. His Carr, the ring leader, usually committing outrageous acts focused toward enticing Mal into participating in his play and pushing Mal past boundaries he’d thought impregnable, looked so unsure.

Watching two people heedless to any observers express their devotion, love, and support of each other, put Camille at a loss to what may be more inspiring and heartbreaking at the same time.Now if she could figure out how to sneak out of here and leave them to it. At that moment she felt worse than a third wheel, she felt like a some silly voyeur-looking through the glass at something she could never hope to share.She understood why Malcolm stopped Carrick. He was just reminding him that whatever he did with her, it would never compare with what he and Carrick had together.She couldn’t get mad at that. If she had someone whom she could share the sheer breadth of feelings she was witnessing right now, she would spend her life reminding him not to screw it up too.

Camille began to slowly slide her body across the bed, she couldn’t help to peek at the men in front of her that were tightly wound in a embrace that only bore testimony of their love for each other.Something suddenly clamped itself around her ankle.Casting a confused look to her ankle, simultaneously trying to figure out how she would untangle it from whatever she was caught on without the men noticing, Camille caught sight of a sable-colored hand wrapped above around her cinnamon toned foot.

Inexplicably her body seemed hyper-aware and she was terrified. Suddenly she couldn’t quite her breathe and the feeling was more overwhelming than any fear she may have felt in the presence of Lucien.She knew that Malcolm was looking at her, but for the life of her she was completely paralyzed from looking up.Something in her knew that if she looked up she would be broken or reborn.

Here is the test of faith. In her soul she knew that Malcolm would never knowingly hurt her. She looked up.

Camille was immediately pinned down by two sets of eyes-one set almost incandescent with intensity and the other tinged with the shades of danger.There was no doubt in her mind that she was looking at two predators that at that moment only had eyes for her.

“Where do you think you are going?” The bass in Malcolm’s voice made her close her eyes to fight it’s effects on her body.Couldn’t he see that she was trying to exit stage left with some ounce of self respect intact?

Carrick’s interrupted Camille internal dialogue, his eyes steadily dissecting her , “She can’t possibly think that she is going to be allowed to put us in this state and leave without fixing it?” His hand crept near Malcolm’s, the one that had captured her ankle. Camille was scared to move a inch, lest any movement made her foot shift and Carrick somehow ended up touching her too.If they both touched her at the same time, she would not be responsible for her actions. She was a sexual hurricane who’s destructive chaos she was disciplining through sheer self-control. One night with them together pretending that they wanted her just as much as the craved each other was looking pretty good.Oh! The lies we tell ourselves. She bit the inside of her cheek. Her willingness to be the better person in the face of this losing proposition was slipping.

Taking one final stab at doing the right thing she answered, “I can’t do this.” She turned her body while trying to jerk her leg from Malcolm’s tight grip.

It all happened at once. Malcolm pulled his arm back toward himself, dragging Camille across the bed by her foot. She ended up between them with her legs askew. “You aren’t going anywhere….” Malcolm replied, looking intently at her before he moved closer snaking her arms around her to brush his hand across her back and upwards to cradle her neck. Then he kissed her.

“….Ever.” Carrick clarified.

There are times to question folks about all the intricacies of what they mean, but clearly this wasn’t one of them.Camille cast her fate in the wind as she let Malcolm’s kiss take over her body.He was pulling her body further up the bed while she felt Carrick pull her legs apart and push his head in between them. “Ever” was going to mean everything she wanted to mean and she would worry about what got lost in translation tomorrow.