Interracial Erotica -
The Lion's Pride-Installment 20
By Olga Coleman-Williams
Published on September 13, 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.

Chapter 27

“Camille, look at me.” His command wrenched her from an existence that occupied a plane of only twenty fingertips- their fingertips.

The energy to lift the thin layer of skin that protected her eyes was far beyond her. “I…I can’t” The whisper of her voice sounding like a plea. Whether she was begging or pleading she hadn’t the vaguest idea. Was she whimpering for them to stop, slow down, let her breathe, or move a little to left? Who the hell knew? All she knew was that these men had reduced her body to a betrayed bundle of raw nerves, covered by an equally duplicitous epidermis. Somehow during their torture, she had lost Carrick’s dress shirt and Carrick had lost his T-shirt. Somehow both men had managed to keep their bottoms. Or at least she thought Carrick was still wearing his shorts. From his position, kneeling between her legs, with the edge of the bed cutting off his body from her sight…Well, if she had enough gas in the tank to even raise her head to check, she’d guess that he still had his on.

Anyway, Malcolm’s indecent scrap of nothing was just a freaking tease and wasn’t doing much more than keeping the length him imprisoned against the taunt muscles of his abdomen. If Camille had the energy and the freedom, she could come up with a few ways to change that. Evidently these men had superpowers, her two wicked ebony/ivory Wonder-twins pushed her against her limits and even tipped her over the edge a little, yet never over for the steep, steep fall. Never had she felt so simultaneously outward and inward-so out of control, so sexy, so desirable, safe and so ready to pass out.

“Are you telling me, no?” Carrick’s voice was soft with sensual warning and made the soft hairs along Camille’s body stand at attention. If she had the energy, she would’ve shook her head, “no”. Every cell in her being had it’s hands on it’s hips yelling at her to get her lazy ass up and at least tell him “no” in sign language, or something. They were working overtime and she had better damn well do her part to avoid whatever consequences her lack of response may bring.

She gave them the finger. Well, at least in her head.

She felt a sharp nip at the delicate hood of skin that protected her clit. Carrick’s attack on the sensitive bundle of nerves immediately caused her eyes to fly open in shock and her whole body to rear up. Or, it would have is she didn’t have a two hundred plus piece of dark chocolate pressed over her chest doing obscene things to her breasts. Oh and of course, if her arms and legs weren’t loosely bound. Yep, she was laid out like some “come hither” Thanksgiving turkey.

Malcolm took that moment to pause in his oral exam of the fullness of her breasts, smiling at her with heat and hunger in his eyes. Having to add his two cents, he advised playfully, “Baby, you know it’s impolite not to answer when you’re asked a question.” He offered helpfully.

Hardy, har, har!

She glared at Malcolm, while managing to use the reserves of her energy to fold four of her fingers down while leaving the middle one up. This sexy Malcolm with the Speedo and a bad case of indecent exposure was sooo funny…not!

Malcolm was not even a little put out, “A little later, I explain all the way I want you to use that.”

She couldn’t wait to turn the tables, to make him weep. Well, the parts of him that weren’t weeping already. Camille watched as his cock pulsed in response to his desire. A larger potion than the tip of his cock, spilled out over the white strip of spandex. The little slit at its tip cried with eagerness. She wanted to make it feel better, really she did. She’d wipe away its tears with her mouth, protected it with its heat and provide comfort with the talent of her tongue. But mean, meany Malcolm would only hover close enough for her to smell him, not suck him. She was one frustrated woman. Okay, maybe not FUSTRATED, frustrated, maybe more closer to inhibited. Camille released an annoyed sigh.

Catching a flash of pale, feral gold as her body exhaustedly jerked back from the force of her reaction from his toothy warning, Camille was suddenly desperate for the use of her arms. Though someone had somehow pushed a pillow behind her head for comfort, all she wanted was to grab Carrick and give herself a moment to recover from the punishment he was putting on her pussy.

“Someone really needs to teach her some manners.” The mean, meany spoke into the mike of her nipple, cause shivers to break-out all over her body.

“It’s a good thing that we’re here. We’re really good at teaching manners- office etiquette, the proper way to greet royalty, how to make your lover cream all over your tongue and never let drop hit a surface.” The gold one with the big mouth responded.

Camille tried to think up a pity retort, but damn they were right.

“Sweet isn’t she?” Malcolm asked around the dark tip of her nipple that was still in his mouth, looking at his other lover whose eyes peeked between Camille’s legs.

“Mhmmmm.” Carr hummed into Camille depths.

Straining against her bounds, Camille cast a universal evil eye at the man worshiping her breasts and the other between her legs. For the life of her, she didn’t remember how or who decided to restrain her, but she did remember something about Malcolm hissing a warning and swearing some promise of tying her up the last time they brought her to a world shuddering orgasm. She had involuntarily tried to skin him alive by raking her nails across his back.

“Malcolm, honey, can’t you untie me.” She wined in her best baby girl voice.

Malcolm moved over her so that he was a whisper away from her lips. Evidently he had just had his inoculation against the baby girl voice, “Hell no.” he whispered against her lips dragging the tips of his tongue across their surface. “Your nails should be registered as weapons. This way I can concentrate without worrying about needing stitches later.” She assumed that he tried to make his “No” go down a little smoother when he deepened his kiss and systematically ignited her senses and unknown energy resources with his deep kiss. Malcolm’s defined, full lips pressed hotly against hers. Exploring all the recesses of her mouth, he proved his mastery of the art of kissing. Turns out my sweet, honorable, sensitive Malcolm has a mean streak. Mean/Malcolm-Camille tried to puzzle out the oxymoron while she did her best to meet Malcolm’s skillful lips with some artistry of her own. Needy with the want to show them the same devotion she could almost cry, she tugged at her bindings in earnest.

“Mal, don’t let her pull like that, she’ll hurt herself.”

Immediately, Mal released her lips, looking intently into her eyes, “You know I would never hurt you baby, right?” Mal ran his hands along her arms, sublimely encouraging her to release the tension in her arms.

Camille eyes rolled to the back of her head at the feel of Malcolm’s large hands engulf her arms. “I rather think I will hurt myself when you finally let me up and I throw myself on whoever’s available d….” Camille finished with a loud whimper, “…ick!” Oh-so-slowly she felt Carrick lather her labia with the broad, flat, rough surface of his tongue. Realizing that there was more give than she originally thought in her bindings, she slowly rose to the command of each stroke. Haltingly, her body curled-up, the tension in her abdomen making her shake, she caught sight of Carrick lapping at her pussy like it was a bowl of cream. Her body fell back in surrender.

Mal had begun to worry the sides of her neck, finding the soft skin below her ear, on his way in a southerly direction. “Our baby has a dirty mouth.” Mal liked dirty in the bedroom.

"Think of all the dirty things I could do with my arms and hands free.” Camille said softly, licking the outside of the arm that Mal held beside her head to prop himself over her body. “And I’ll describe everything I’m going to do to while I do it.” The promise of bedroom gymnastics was illicit in her voice. Camille couldn’t help but smile when she felt Malcolm tense for a moment. She just knew she had him.

“No, naughty girl.” Malcolm reprimanded before dragging the edge of his teeth against her breasts. She came so prettily. He wanted to chance to watcher her a couple more times before he even considered letting her loose. Shifting his body back down her body, trailing kisses all the way, Malcolm was back at work torturing her with careful, fluttery, little nips around the areolas of her breasts, only to shock her nerve endings by taking long hard pulls from her nipples. Every time she seemed to catch on to his rhythm, he’d abruptly change it with the sharp jerks of pain and pleasure pulled from her body. She couldn’t count how many times she had cum…three…four …four thousand times? Before Carrick’s rude awakening she had inhabited a subspace that only encompassed twenty fingers and two mouths.

The feeling was too painful…too sweet…too much…too little. Her body involuntarily shuddered with the reverberating molecular memory of it. Camille heaved a sigh, she was a goner, and she still had yet to see any dick. Well, she saw a lit bit in passing. Maybe that’s why everyone wasn’t running around like chickens fighting for a place in a threesome. Camille almost head-butted Malcolm when he took another strong pull from her nipple. This shit could kill a person! Camille cast a worried eye to her left arm, realizing she couldn’t feel it. Wasn’t numbness in a woman’s arm an early indication of a heart attack?

Camille wiggled her ass on the bed, simultaneously shifting the way her weight was distributed amongst her bindings. The blood rushed back to her desensitized limb. Okay, it’s not a heart attack… She almost purred in relief as Malcolm backed off the Chinese nibble torture and let his gifted hands caress her breasts, studying her reactions like she was the final exam and he was an overachiever on Crack. Then Carrick began to thrust his tongue into her…They’re just trying to kill me Camille’s head collapsed backward as she ground her teeth, fighting not to scream as they brought her to the brink…Again.

“Carrick and Malcolm if you don’t stop playing, I grantee you that payback will be a bitch.” Camille growled at her men.

Carrick couldn’t hold back his devilish smile. He heard her, and then ignored her. He could do this all night. Making Camille cum could be his new pastime-a hobby, if you will. Watching Malcolm loose himself in her body only inspired him further. Carrick could see that Malcolm was straining to hold himself back. God knew that Carrick understood the feeling. Carrick sat back on his heels and admired her smooth, long legs, then definition of her muscles along the way to the landscaped area between her legs. She had such a pretty pussy. Everything was all well proportioned and tucked in between her succulent lips. Carrick bent down while pulling her behind up to meet his mouth, as he pushed the tip of his tongue deep into Camille’s pussy. The walls of this most secret spot didn’t just contract in response, it fuckin’ quivered. Carrick grinned in response. Nothing else about this woman bowed or bent to anyone, but her pussy quivered for him. I’m in love.

“Pw-wa, Pw-wa, Pweeezeee.” Camille’s pleading pants rasped through the room. Carrick didn’t bother to determine whether she was pleading him to stop, or to continue because with each exhalation her nether lips ground against his mouth. Carrick rolled his tongue along the bundle of fibers that formed into a small fleshy nub, relishing the delicacy of the taste of her floating around in his mouth. He couldn’t help but to nip her again with his teeth, soothing the area with a broad stroke of his tongue. That combination brought her to her toes each and every time. Carrick couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of her body’s reaction his touch, the intensity of what she was feeling drew her body to a bow. Well… a bow that was tied to a bed. Her legs open wide in invitation, her body straining for more, forcing Carrick groan in reaction. Using one hand to hold her weight, he took a hold of himself and took a pull in a futile attempt to ease some of the tension that continued to pool there, the sight of Camille’s long, taunt body coiling and stretching with each touch, was almost a painful reminder of his own body’s need to bury itself in at least one of his lovers. Carrick looked over at Mal, watching him worry Camille’s nipples like a mad evil genius. Carrick felt almost felt bad for Camille. Malcolm had “that” look in his eye. We’re in for a long night. Humming again into Camille’s pussy, the vibration caused her to thrash. He eased off reminding himself of the caution he’d just gave Mal. He didn’t want her to actually break something.

That thought suddenly brought the day they found her on the boat back in focus for him. Seeing her broken body folded into that tiny corner of the bloody stateroom, the terror of praying that they weren’t going to lose her, the weeks of watching her body slowly knit itself back together while he, little by little, began the impossible…falling for her. He eased his mouth off of her, her scent still infused his senses. I could have lost her. This woman who ties me closer to Malcolm in a completely different way than we never considered available-probably the only woman in the world who could have that distinction. His body reacted at the thought. He would have never really gotten to know this infuriating, complicated, amazingly brave woman. His hands cradled her bottom. He could feel Camille blindly arching her body so her pussy could be soothed by making some type of contact with him. The depth of emotions that he was feeling caused Carrick to slide his arms up her body and nestle his head against her stomach. With each breath he fought for control of his feelings. With each of hers, pressed jaggedly against his rough cheek, he prayed for the steadiness to quiet his trembling. Malcolm, and now she were the two cracks in his defenses and he would always protect them with everything at his disposal. Carrick looked up finding Malcolm, as always so in-tuned with him, watching him with a puzzled expression.

Chapter 27
“Carr? What’s wrong?” Mal’s voice eased some of the tension that was building in his shoulders. Carrick didn’t want to ignore Mal, but he couldn’t fathom how to convey what he was feeling without messing everything up. He just buried his face into Camille, pulling her to him like a lifeline. Feeling sick to his stomach, Carrick fumbled with ties at her legs suddenly ashamed of them. He cursed the idea of submission when throughout her life this woman had already submitted to too much. He didn’t want anything else they experienced together tonight to reminder her of anything she had encountered before.

Mal carefully watched Carrick, somehow he knew that he was a witness to the exact moment that Carrick figured how much Camille meant to him, to them. The moment seemed sacred. Taking his cue, he quietly helped undo Camille’s bindings. This wasn’t a time for anyone to be anything but free to take the final steps of their being together.

Brown, rough hewn hands caressed the strong outline of Carrick’s jaw. Head to chin and chin to head, Malcolm bent so that the sides of their faces were pressed against Camille’s chest. With infinite slowness, reaching across Camille’s body to draw Carrick’s head closer to his own, he kissed his lover while the soft surface of their new lover supported them. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths while they were serenaded by Camille’s heart beat. Malcolm was drunk with emotion and couldn’t imagine needing or wanting anything more. Months ago, approaching Carrick with his attraction to Camille seemed impossible, and now they had a chance at something indescribable. As far as anything that could be missing within his and Carr’s relationship, Malcolm knew that Camille was integral to this new sense of recommitment. She was adhesive for the places that they had shied away from, which they may have, however unknowingly, allowed to fray the edges of their relationship. Mal just wanted to show them how full his heart was, how much he loved them both-with his body, with his soul.

The tempo change mildly surprised Camille. Before, with the restriction of her legs and arms, the decisions regarding where to put her hands were held from her. It freed her to just be in her body, being slowly driven together, then apart, by its reactions. Their touch upon her body made her experience it in a whole other way. Carrick and Malcolm pressed against her body, loving each other and connected to her made her feel overwhelmed with love. She was scared if they looked up at her that they would guess her secret. She was hopelessly in love with these men.

Carrick broke the kiss between him and Malcolm to look at her. His chin rested lightly on her stomach and he couldn’t help but grin, life felt perfect at that moment, “Stay with us.”

Perhaps for the first time since she had met him, Camille read Carrick like a book. He wasn’t kidding, he wasn’t leading her on. His grin made him seem boyish ad open, incapable of bluster or bullshit. It was all so surreal-the picture of the happy lover’s and Carrick turning to her and telling her…that. It didn’t matter that only a moment, hours, days ago she had herself convinced that those words from them was all she had wanted to hear. It’s something like trying to feed a feast to a starving person. No, really starving person. As in not having seen a decent meal in years. She had done what starving people do when thrown in among a feast. Horror was something tangible as it clawed it’s way up her throat, immediately she realized that she’d ate to beyond filling and was promptly about to throw up over everything.

Camille began to shake once his words settled on her shoulders and crept down her spine. His words broke her. Carrick and Malcolm had shattered her with the hope They’d snuck in her heart.

The lessons of her life urged her to run in the face of their love. Instinctively Camille drew herself from under them, as if space would protect her heart from the hope that they offered. She backed away on her knees till she knew that the headboard of the bed was at her back. His words called up every ugly thing she had ever done, reminding her that she wasn’t good enough for them and Carrick’s words were probably the result of some type of sexual euphoria. Not one person in her life had wanted her without her accoutrement of masks, or her bags of tricks. She couldn’t…No, she wouldn’t trust it. Unaccountably, she felt her eyes well up with tears while she forced herself to steel her heart against the hope. What qualification were required, what price she would have the pay for them to love her? Didn’t they get the memo? Something about her was wrong, certainly not normal. People couldn’t just love her for nothing.

Her eyes were closed and she hadn’t realized. She only realized that her cheeks were wet until she felt Mal’s fingertips brush them away. Somehow he had moved himself next her, the soothing undertones of his voice repeated something over and over again like he was trying to quiet a child. He nuzzled her neck, knowing that if she just could feel him, she would know, she would be able to know their love.

Her fear, her brokenness, made it hard for to hear him, let alone accept his touch. It didn’t help that each time he moved to catch her lips she violently twisted her head to and fro, missing what he was saying. Camille felt Carrick press himself into her middle, trying to pin her down and ease her thrashing. Her body bucked to throw him off. Deep inside she knew if she heard it, if she allowed herself to feel them, she would be a goner. There wouldn’t be enough pieces of her left to put together if she took this chance. Didn’t they know that? Couldn’t they understand that every other person she believed in let her go, or let her down? She only fought them harder as Malcolm tried to tell her his words. Ferociously, Camille kept dodging him, pushing at him to move away from her, drawing her fists against him to make him move, kicking Carrick to get off of her, all trying to make Malcolm shut up- anything to stop him from making her believe.

Malcolm murmured his mantra persistently, finally locking her arms against her body while he held her tightly. Somehow he was able to swing her around so that she fit snuggly between him and Carrick, with her front facing him. Her legs slid on either side of him, but she still resisted him, resisted his attempt to pacify her- fought against their love. Carrick pulled her hair away from her face and they both repeated it to her. “Trust us, baby. Trust us, baby. Let us love you. We love you.” Each of them took their turn. Carrick, with his lips pressed to her ear, her ass pressed against his thighs and his knees hugging the outside of Mal’s. Finally, Mal caught her lips and breathed the words in to her lungs.

“We love you, we won’t ever let anything bad happen to you again. Just love us a little. Stay with us.”

Just like that. She lost her fight.

Camille caught his words as he pressed them to her lips, then inhaled them. Over and over again they pressed their promise and it’s truth against her body, across her shoulders, against her cheeks, in the midst of her hair, in the small of her back, on top of the lush curve her hips. She felt the need for them press against her as it filled all the empty spaces inside. It seemed such an easy thing to raise herself slight so that she could sheath them. Something like that should have been more than a little awkward, but with little effort it seemed that they were pressed tightly within her. The feeling of them rubbing against each other as they pushed against the walls of her core was overwhelming. Camille felt deliciously full, almost bursting with them inside of her. “We love you, love us, trust us….” Over and over again they whispered their benediction to the rhythm of their trinity. With each rise of her body, each time she sheathed and protected their heat within her, she drew strength.

“I love you.”

The words were so simple, so smooth, that they slipped out of her lips before she could consider drawing them back. The sound of her words drew them all into frenzy. No one was could say anything that made any sense. Camille had never felt anything like it, Mal’s and Carrick fingers were entwined around her hips while they fairly lifted her off of them only to be slammed back down at a punishing pace. Everyone was trying to touch any available body part that was available. Carrick could feel his release building. The feel of Malcolm slickly rubbing against him with each rise and lowing of Camille body was an excruciatingly experience of pleasure. She was a furnace that his cock just wanted to wrap itself within and around. His senses couldn’t make sense of all the data. He couldn’t distinguish Mal from Camille and all he could recognize was the hunger in his body. Mal was lost. Blindly he literally shoved Camille onto them-calling out how much he needed them, loved them. Making love to Carrick while also loving Camille was like nothing he had ever experienced. All that could be heard was harsh exhalation while they drove themselves artlessly to the finish.

Mal felt it. “Oh…” his body almost weightless as he pulled her into him while grinding into her trying to finding the release that was right beyond his grasp. It suddenly hit him with the impact of a truck. Somewhere in his awareness he felt Carrick push into her with a triumphant roar as he too found his. He didn’t have a moment to consider it as Camille latched her mouth to his shoulder and screamed.

Nothing could be heard in the room but harsh breathing from all three of its occupants. Camille finally raised her head, releasing Mal’s skin at the same time. Mal’s winced at what was sure to be a mark in the morning. Camille looked him in the eye, “I love you.” Usually, after incredible sex declaration s of love should be taken with a grain of salt, but Mal saw the words were new to her. She mouthed them like she was trying them on for size. Most importantly she seemed delighted in the feel of them, the way the words stretched her mouth and settled on her tongue. Malcolm could see the strength of the love he felt for her reflected back to him. She trusted them and their love for her.

“So what am I, chopped liver?” A voice grumbled somewhere above her head. Mal quickly looked up and saw the humor in Carr’s eyes. He looked down to find a shy Camille, with a soft smile on her face. Both men let out a hissing sound as Camille rose up, unsheathing them, and turned to Carrick. She looked like a woman unburdened by nothing, freed from the past. In Carrick’s eyes, all she was missing were two ponytails, a lollipop and she would look like jailbait. She pushed against him and he didn’t have the power or energy to resist falling backwards. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She sang while kissing him, cradling his chin to get better access to his lips, grinning like a loon, then falling in beside him, cuddling close.

Sometime later Carrick felt Malcolm get out of bed, come back to exercise their basic after sex absolutions and straighten everybody out enough so that at least they were pointed in the right direction in the bed and under the covers. Carrick had the bad feeling when he finally fell asleep, with Camille between them, he grinning like a loon too.