Pleasure Trap Read online

  He sprang up from the chair and strode toward her. Despite herself, her gaze was drawn to his bobbing cock, where a thick vein pulsed from the tip of his cock head to the root. A powerful urge to touch his cock rocked her, almost making her reach out her hand.

  “Now then, you asked about my cock, especially its unique appearance.” He stopped in front of her and released a short, humorless laugh. “The reason for that is because I’m the Diamond Immortal. However, I assure you that it’s as warm and living as any part of my body, or should I say, as any other man’s cock you’ve seen in your life. Do you want to touch it?”

  She wanted to say “no”, not sure if she could bear to release him later on, but she wasn’t proof against the hint of wariness in his voice. Had other women been repulsed by his strange appearance?

  “You’re beautiful,” she said in a hoarse voice. Her hand cupped around his cock, which jerked in reaction. He sighed as she explored the rigid, crystalline length. Despite the cold appearance, his cock throbbed with awesome power. Hot, molten steel. She yearned to take him in her mouth and test his texture with her tongue. Light hit his cock and refracted, spilling in rainbow waves around it and highlighting the illusion of warmth with reds and yellows and oranges.

  Incredible.

  She wasn’t aware that she was dipping her head toward him when he stopped her.

  “Is this your choice, Raisa?” His voice came as though from afar. This close, she could 33

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  smell the fragrant musk of his groin and she wanted to rub her cheek against him.

  “There’s no going back once you suck my cock.”

  His words were like a splash of cold water and dispelled the sensual haze. She released him and jerked back. “I…I’m sorry.”

  “No need.” He whirled around and gulped in several huge breaths. “I was the one who stopped you, remember? Though I may regret it later on,” he said below his breath. She probably wasn’t supposed to hear it, but in the silence, sound carried quite well.

  “T-thank you.”

  “I don’t want you to feel that you’ve been cheated out of another choice,” he said grimly, walking to his chair and straddling it once more. “I don’t go back on my promises, Raisa.”

  “You’re not at all what I expected of an immortal. I mean, you’re like a god,” she drew a shaky hand through her hair, “with powers and magic. You could’ve taken what you wanted from me and there wouldn’t have been anything I could do about it.”

  She had fought for the right to make a choice and here she was, about to throw it away on the strength of a beautiful cock. Better if he had seduced her and be done with it. That way, she wouldn’t have doubted the might of her convictions, as she was doing now. “You could’ve just let me dig my grave, but you didn’t. You play fair, you don’t abuse your power…” She gave a short laugh as a thought occurred to her. “Or is this your tactic? ‘Wear her down with kindness until she gives in?’” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

  Adamas stiffened. “Is that how you see me?”

  No. There was an earnestness to him that she sensed wasn’t faked, but she had to keep a few weapons at her disposal. “I don’t know you, do I?” She shrugged with an insouciance she didn’t feel. “Maybe we should go back to your explanation of how you came to be with this disease.” She made an impatient sound. “Does it even have a name?”

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  “No.” He laughed, but the sound was flat. “But I’ll make one up for you. How about hardness of heart?”

  “Hardness of heart?” What kind of name was that? Very apt, as it turned out.

  “Working with diamonds is not without its hazards,” Adamas began. He rested his hands on top of the backrest and continued, “You know the diamond is the hardest among gemstones.” He waited for her to nod. “Well, as we get more and more exposed to the gem in line with our work, its hardness seems to…be transferred to us, so that our hearts get a tiny bit harder with each encounter. Not only in terms of the physical aspect, but also the emotional side. At our worst, we can become brusque and inconsiderate and short-tempered, among other things. We’ve been known to flare up without reason, and we become very, very selfish.”

  She couldn’t quite take it in, everything sounds so fantastical and impossible. She knew the diamond had been the cause of greed and theft and God knew what else, but to affect a person in such a way was…unbelievable. Did a gem have that much power over a person?

  She didn’t realized she’d voice out her question until he answered, “Raw diamonds—growing diamonds—are unstable and a short exposure may not affect a person so much, but regular contact, day in and day out, for fifty years, give or take a year or two…Well, calculate it in the exponential, but never before had we left it this late.” He groaned and pounded his head against his arms. “And I can’t do anything to help Damaon, only he has the touch—hell’s gems!” The anguished roar was in tandem to the palpable emotion that poured out of him in waves. If what he was saying was true, then a hardened heart—the physical one, which would stiffen and render the valves and the arteries useless—would be the cause of death, as the blood wouldn’t be able to flow through. And Adamas was beating himself up because instead of seducing her—the woman able to reverse the situation, or so he said—he was giving the decision for their life or death into her hands. Apparently, if 35

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  Damaon were the one sitting in front of her, he would’ve used his “touch”—that charming smile, she supposed—to get what they wanted.

  But that still didn’t explain one thing.

  “And what can sex with the woman do?” She hated the quaver in her voice.

  “Ever since hardened and embittered Diamond Immortals existed, the women had been able to soften their hearts, bring them back from the brink of death and enable them to continue working with their beloved diamonds. There have been ten women before you who have served us in this capacity and as you can see, we’re still here.”

  Adamas took a deep breath and studied her with deep concentration. “You hold much power, Raisa, whether you want it or not. You may not need us, but we do need you. Very much.”

  “And if I don’t give you what you want?”

  He gazed into her eyes with unflinching honesty. “Then we look for our successor. But please, please reconsider, Raisa. You say the calling star didn’t leave you with a choice, so I’m giving you one now, but you must give us your answer before the fourteen days are up.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to press, but we need to know as early as possible. And if you do agree, and if having sex with two men offends you, then I beg you to consider Damaon. If you would save him, I’ll be very grateful.”

  * * * * *

  Though she didn’t want to admit it, Raisa was moved by Adamas’ obvious love and affection for his mate. Devotion, deep and steady. What she wouldn’t give for him to direct that kind of emotion at her. But no, he and Damaon were mates and it was as plain as the eyes on her face that they didn’t need anyone else. They only needed the occasional woman to soften them up, as had men throughout the ages, just that their need was a little bit different.

  Coming from a place where more than fifty percent of marriages ended in divorce, she found it equally inspiring that their being together for—he’d mentioned ten women 36

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  at fifty years each, plus another fifty years to come to her, apparently the eleventh woman—at least five hundred fifty years hadn’t lessened their love or passion for one another. It was truly a miracle they weren’t fighting boredom or each other by the second hundredth year. In fact, the heated ardor of their love still burned brightly as the sun.

  Rubbing her tired eyes as she wandered about the palace, she wished their passion was less exuberant.

  She had requested and been granted a guestroom the previous night, but it seemed the men couldn’t stop having sex. Even with the barrier
of the wall between them, her sleep kept being interrupted with their moans and groans, not to mention the insidious phantom touches of their hands and mouths and teeth which caressed and stroked every part of her. The fervent attentions of the phantom cock dizzied her senses, as it mercilessly slammed into her again and again. She couldn’t remember having experienced so many orgasms in one night.

  She was inclined to think the sex kept Damaon’s demons—the further hardening of his heart—at bay, but she wished the cool marble between their rooms had been able to prevent her from experiencing those skillful touches. She wished they weren’t been so energetic and…

  She had to stop kidding herself.

  Despite all her protests, she wished she were in their room with them, romping on the bed.

  Raisa wandered through the great palace, admired the high-ceilinged dome of the central hall with its fat, white pillars and stared, awestruck, at the seeming endless proliferation of diamond-studded rooms. Adamas had wanted to take her on a tour of the place, but she’d preferred to wander on her own. Shrugging, he hadn’t insisted. She knew he wanted to spend more time with his mate than playing courteous host to her unwilling guest.

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  Something he’d said the day before puzzled her. Since both men worked with the diamonds, why was it that Damaon only had about a year left while Adamas had more?

  Did it have something to do with each man’s constitution or immunity?

  She knew what Adamas was asking her though in their conversation. Save Damaon, if she didn’t want to save them both. Hell, if there was anyone she wanted to save, it was the better man—Adamas—but of course, since he was the better man, he would insist on saving everyone else but himself.

  Not that she had already decided to save them, but she was torn. According to Adamas, she could help, if she wanted to. She could make a change in their lives, enable them to live for another fifty years to continue growing those damnable diamonds that would eventually make them sick again, but what about the principles by which she’d lived her entire life? But, more importantly, should Adamas and Damaon die because of her, how could she live with herself?

  The question was a conundrum and best left for another time as she caught the sound of a feminine hum. Rounding the corner, Raisa found herself looking at a woman’s back the likes of which she’d never seen before. Her mouth dropped open at the fantastic sight.

  The woman was a wonder of crystalline perfection, from the exquisitely carved strands of hair falling on her shoulders down to the delicate arches and toes of her bare feet as she stood on tiptoes, her arm waving in a graceful wave as she wiped a window clean. Pearlescent clothing covered the woman’s vital parts, lending a solid contrast to the rest of her multi-faceted diamondlike form.

  “Who are you?” Raisa asked in wonder.

  The woman stopped and turned to her, revealing a small, sweet face with large diamonds for eyes. “Hello, mistress. I’m Dia. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you for real?” On Earth, Dia would’ve fetched a fortune. She could’ve solved Raisa’s problem.

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  Dia’s brows furrowed as though she didn’t understand the question. “What can I do for you, mistress?” she repeated.

  Raisa felt a small twinge of disappointment at the evidence of Dia’s real nature. In essence, Dia was something like an artificially intelligent robot, though her movements were so lifelike and her voice so fluid that Raisa had initially thought Dia must be one of the sentient denizens of the demesne. Apparently, she was wrong.

  “I’m Raisa.”

  “Mistress,” the woman greeted shyly.

  “Just Raisa.”

  “Mistress.”

  This conversation was going nowhere fast. “You’re beautiful,” she said, wondering at the extent of Dia’s conversation skills.

  “Thank you,” Dia said, smiling and ducking her head.

  Hard to believe she was made from inanimate gems. Whoever brought her to life must possess great powers.

  “Are you the only one or are there more of you?”

  Dia frowned, then said, “What can I do for you, mistress?”

  That must be the default question. Well, it was better than most men’s pick-up lines.

  “Nothing.” Raisa sighed. She just didn’t have the knack to carry on a one-sided conversation. “Carry on.”

  “Mistress needs me to carry something?”

  “Uh, no.” How to get Dia to resume her industrious cleaning of the windows? “Uh, continue your work.”

  “What work does mistress need me to do?”

  Blast. “Wipe the windows.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

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  Raisa heaved a sigh of relief as the diamond servant went back to her task. She continued onward to see more rooms, some of which were bare of furnishings. She’d been exploring the palace since after breakfast, but thus far, she’d only seen about half the rooms in the east wing, the ground level of which led to the kitchens. The west wing, she was informed, was closed and used only when the immortals were having a party, which had not happened in a long, long time. Musing as she walked, she meandered through the rooms she hadn’t seen—mostly empty—and made her way back to the morning room—so called because the bright light of the sun shone in through the French windows, creating a cheerful atmosphere in which to have one’s breakfast—when she finally realized what was bugging her about the place. She stared at the wide expanse of wall across from her in disbelief. The monotonous color. A clean yet sterile whiteness. Everything was either stark ivory or multi-faceted crystal, right down to the pillars and doors and even the furniture.

  Landscape paintings would be good. The rainbow hue of colors would break up the tiresome white and liven up the place. Colorful rugs by the doors and potted plants with fresh green leaves in strategic places. Bright curtains in vivid shades by the windows and—

  “Leave this room.” The low, masculine growl—tight and restrained—from the next room slashed through her interior design plans. The voice reminded her of the furious snarls of a beast that was in much pain. “Now.”

  Raisa rushed into the corridor in time to see two diamond servants—a man and a woman—filed out of the room. As soon as they had cleared the doorway, the sound of plates shattering on the tile floor could be heard. Objects being hurled at the wall. Shouts of heated frustration. Screams of abject pain.

  For a man who’d had countless, orgasmic sex the night before, Damaon was in a very bad way.

  Curses exploded from a voluble male throat and more loud bangs and thuds emanated from the room. Then silence.

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  Cautious, Raisa peered around the open door to see Damaon slumped against the wall, on the far left corner of the room, an expression of pure misery and anguish on his face. His eyes were closed and he slid to the floor before he buried his face in his open palms. Soft expletives filled the air.

  Damaon was hurting.

  She pinned a bright smile on her lips and sauntered into the room. “So this is where you disappeared to.”

  His body stiffened and when he lifted up his head, his face was stony and forbidding and his silver eyes were cold. Yet, for all that, her attraction to him beat at her, making her weak with desire for him. “What? Changed your mind?”

  “Not at all,” she said easily. She glanced at the mess on the ground to the right of the huge oval dining table, then veered toward the left to sit on the floor opposite him. The refreshing coldness of the tiles seeped through her robe. Damaon frowned. With a gesture, he spun a white felt rug beneath her, making her snug and warm.

  “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. Take it as…apology for what happened yesterday. Then again, you might decide to have sex with me in gratitude.”

  “What? For this little thing?” she scoffed. He wasn’t so far gone as Ada
mas had intimated. When not in the grip of lust, Damaon was quite…nice. Sort of.

  “I might luck out.” He didn’t quite grin, but his lips lifted a little.

  “Dream on. By the way, I want a blue rug the color of the ocean on a sunny day. It’s my favorite color.”

  “Sorry, can’t oblige.”

  “Why not?”

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  “I can only spin white. That’s the diamond immortal’s color. That or transparent, but since transparent isn’t a color…” His lips twisted as he surveyed her. “I’d love to do transparent on you.”

  “You wish,” she huffed, though her body tingled.

  “How about this?” A moment later, he offered her a bunch of white tuberoses, its fragrance filling the air. Even its stems were white. “For you.”

  “Thank you.” She breathed in their scent, then lifted her head and dimpled at him.

  “Though I prefer lilacs.”

  Damaon scowled. “You’re a hard woman to please.” He made a move to get up, but was forestalled by her hand on his arm.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, immediately contrite. She should’ve known better than to tease a man at the edge of his temper, a man who’d lost control over his behavior through no fault of his own, a man who was trying to be civil to her after the explosion she’d witnessed. “I was only teasing. I love these. No one has given me flowers in a long time.” She squeezed his arm as she lifted the blossoms she held in her other hand.

  “Thank you.”

  He searched her face as though to gauge her sincerity. Apparently satisfied, he settled back against the wall, but kept her hand in his, stroking her fingers and doodling on her palm. “Why not?”

  “What?” A strange heat curled through her body, though he probably hadn’t been intending to seduce her. One touch and she was in flames. How pathetic could she get?

  “Your boyfriend’s the stingy type?”

  She thought back to what she’d just said. “Oh. No boyfriend for close to three years. My parents fell sick, one after the other, and I had to take care of them. They’re gone now, but…” How could she articulate the loneliness she felt at her parents’ passing, the two people in the world who had known her the best? How would he understand when he had Adamas by his side for over five hundred years? Adamas who loved and cared 42