"Kara, I've had a recurring fantasy since meeting you," Ben said, looking into her eyes. Kara couldn't focus on what he was saying. Quinn's fingertips made it difficult for her to think, let alone focus on what was being said to her. "Kachawli, I've fantasized about you with your hair down. I've never seen it totally down. May I?" he asked as he reached for the pins that were holding her hair in place.
Kara nodded, but then asked, "What does ‘Kachawli' mean?"
"It means ‘sweetheart' in the language of the Tlingit people," he answered as he took down her hair and fanned the silky, white-gold strands out around her shoulders.
"I think her hair would look even prettier against her naked skin," Quinn suggested as his cheek nuzzled the back of her head and his fingers kept up their maddening strokes so close to her nipples, but not yet there. God, she needed him to touch the budding crests of her breasts. As she arched into his hands, trying to force the touch she craved, she heard a soft chuckle, and he deftly avoided brushing her aching nipples.
"Quinn," she cried.
"Let me take off your shirt, and I'll give you what you need, sweetheart, I promise." Kara raised both of her arms above her head, anxious to do anything to get those tantalizing fingers to touch her where she needed to be touched. For a brief moment she worried that he would laugh at her need, but he didn't. Instead, she was rewarded with words of praise from both men as they slowly pulled the shirt over her head and stripped off her bra.
"God, Kara, look at you! Your nipples look like wild strawberries," Ben exclaimed in rapt delight. Kara looked down and couldn't pull her eyes away. She wasn't seeing her breasts. She was seeing the beauty of the cream of her breasts being cupped in the strength and mahogany masculinity of Quinn's sea-roughened hands that caused her to literally stop breathing. She wanted to stop time so that she could just savor this moment. Then the actual sensation of his touch burst over her senses, and she would have crumpled over had his strong arms not been surrounding her.
"Kara-"
"Sweetheart, are you all right?" That was when she realized they had been talking to her, and she had missed what they had been saying. She looked into Ben's eyes and saw his look of concern. She felt embarrassed because once again she had gotten lost in what her family called "her artistic fog." She looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
"Hey, Kara, it's okay. You can tell us. Did something bother you just now?" Ben asked. Kara still couldn't bring herself to look up at him, but that just brought her focus back down to the wonder of her flesh engulfed in Quinn's hands.
"Ben, look, nothing's wrong, she's aroused." Quinn brushed both thumbs over the turgid peaks, eliciting a sharp gasp. "Kara, answer Ben." When she continued to keep her focus on his hands, he grasped both nipples between thumb and forefinger and gave a light pinch. "Look at Ben and answer his question. Did we do something to bother you?" Quinn asked in a stern voice that finally cut through her fog.
Kara jerked her head up from the fascinating mix of light and dark colors, hard and soft textures, to see the concern in Ben's glorious milk-chocolate, brown eyes. She reached up to cup his face, to reassure him, but that only pressed her breasts deeper into the hands of the man holding her, and she moaned at the decadent feel, which then caused Ben's eyes to darken even more with worry. She shook her head hard to clear it so she could be clear.
"No, Ben, everything is fine. It's me just being me. I'm sorry, don't pay any attention to me. I like everything we're doing. I promise." She trailed her fingers softly down his face, trying to relieve the lines of worry. When that didn't work, she pushed up at the edges of his lips, trying to force a smile.
"Not good enough, Kara. I don't understand. Why did you zone out? Are you sure we're not rushing you?" His face was a mask of apprehension. For the first time, she was beginning to feel surrounded like she used to with her family, trying to explain a part of her that nobody understood. But now she was doing it half naked in front of strangers. She started to wiggle, trying to move Quinn's hands.
"Shhh," Quinn crooned into her ear. "You're still in control here, Kara. He just wants to understand. We both do. We're not going to judge. You went somewhere in your head. Can you share that with us?" he coaxed. His warm hands stayed where they were, his thumbs continued their languid brushing back and forth, and despite her anxiety over the conversation, she felt her arousal increasing. She knew that the panel of her panties had to be getting wet.
"Ben, you know what I'm like when I see something I want to sketch, right?" She watched as he nodded his head carefully. She could tell he wanted to understand everything she was saying. "You've seen me get pretty caught up in things when I go into artist mode, right?" she asked with a self-deprecating smile. He nodded, and Quinn kept stroking. She had to talk faster before she went up in flames.
"That's all that happened. I looked down and I saw Quinn's hands, and me. My body and I went into artist mode. Okay?" she ground out. This was embarrassing. It would have been more embarrassing, except for the fact that she needed these men to start doing more than sitting here barely touching her and insisting she talk. She watched as Ben's expression lightened and she saw his dimples. God she loved those dimples. He reached up and covered both of his brother's hands, and now she had four hands covering her two breasts, and she couldn't suppress a groan of pleasure.
"Oh, you like that, don't you, Kachawli?" Ben whispered. "What do you like more?" he asked as he and his brother squeezed. "Is it the feeling? Or is it the visual stimulation?" Ben glided his hands up further so that one rested against her breastbone and the other circled her throat, and she tilted her head back so that now she was gazing up into Quinn's face. "Tell Quinn. Tell him what you were thinking when you first saw his hands on your breasts, Kara," Ben demanded.
"Quinn, I love how your hands feel. I love the calluses. I love feeling the ridges of scars, how they snag against my skin … " Kara's voice trailed off because instead of the normal caramel color of his eyes, she saw them turn a molten honey that was such a fascinating shade, one she didn't think she had ever seen before.
"Kara!" She felt a slight pressure at her throat and realized that Ben had pressed to get her attention.
"Hmmm?" she questioned, looking into Quinn's eyes that were now a dancing caramel color again.
"I believe, sweetheart, you were going to tell me you liked looking at my hands, but you got lost," Quinn explained.
"You have beautiful eyes." She smiled up at him. She lifted her hands from where they were still cupping Ben's wonderfully dimpled cheeks, and instead, circled the back of Quinn's neck as her back was pressed to his chest. She tilted her head more to the side so that she could more easily see him, and finally he bent closer. She looked at his lips, anticipating their first kiss.
"Hands, sweetheart, we were talking about hands," Quinn said before he cut a glance over to his brother. "I see what you mean. I love that she's an artist, too." Just like that, she came out of her dreamlike state.
"What?" she asked in an unbelieving tone.
"Ben told me how into the moment you could be. How different things would just take you flying into another universe because you would be imagining them as a sculpture or as a piece of glass, or just as something beautiful that you wanted to remember. I really didn't understand what he was talking about until I saw you do that. That's what really happened, wasn't it, sweetheart? It's not just the physical sensations, not just the touching that sets you off, you get just as wrapped up, or maybe more wrapped up, in the visual aspects of lovemaking, don't you?" As he was talking, Quinn's eyes went from caramel to molten honey again. If Kara was going to be with him for any length of time, she would always know when he was getting aroused by just looking at the color of his eyes.
"I never have been before," she finally confessed. "But you both are so masculine, I love looking at your faces, your bodies. I know I'm supposed to call you handsome, but you're both visual feasts. I love your skin color, and when I saw it next to mine, I literally couldn't breathe, the colors looked so stunning together. Then, to see the press of your strong fingers so gently cupping the rounded flesh of my breast-yes, I could feel it, but you're right. It was the seeing it that aroused me the most. I went into my zone, and I didn't hear what you were saying," she admitted quietly.