Click

by Tymber Dalton

  He heard Sully lay the paddle on the galley counter. With his left hand still firmly gripping Mac’s collar, Sully reached around Mac and grabbed his cock, stroking it.

  “One of the many things I love about you, slave,” Sully whispered in his ear. “I love that you’ll take that for me and it makes you hard and horny for me.”

  Mac, beyond words, flexed his hips against Sully’s hand, wanting more traction against his throbbing cock.

  Sully yanked him up and off the table and pushed him ahead of him, forward to the larger cabin. There, Sully turned him around, kissed him ferociously, and then shoved him backward onto the bunk.

  “Legs up, slave. I want to watch your face while I fuck you.”

  Mac grabbed his knees and drew them up while Sully put down a towel under Mac’s ass. Sully shoved down his shorts and slicked his cock with lube before working a generous amount of it into Mac’s ass.

  “Lucky for you,” Sully said, “beating your ass makes me fucking horny as hell.”

  He pressed the knob of his cock against Mac’s rim and slowly pressed forward, breaching his ass and giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. Once he’d worked his cock all the way into Mac’s ass, filling him, he reached down and twisted Mac’s nipple rings until he cried out.

  “That’s right,” Sully said. “I control the pleasure and the pain, don’t I?”

  “Yes, Master!” he gasped.

  “Ask me for what you want.”

  “Please pound my ass, Master!”

  Sully’s lubed hand encircled Mac’s cock, stroking him even as he started thrusting. “Oh, I’m going to do that, all right. But you’d better come before I do, or you’ll be holding it for several days.”

  With his ankles over Sully’s shoulders, Mac felt his climb start as Sully’s cock hit him perfectly in the sweet spot with every thrust. He stared up into Sully’s grey eyes, knowing he was exactly where he wanted and needed to be—under this man.

  It didn’t take long for Sully to wring an orgasm out of Mac, his cock exploding in the other man’s hand, coating his belly with cum.

  “Good boy,” Sully whispered before fucking him in earnest, pounding his ass, driving Mac up the bed until Sully finally came and fell still.

  He leaned in and kissed him. “Love you, Brant.”

  Mac smiled up at him. “Love you, too, Sully.”

  “You have my permission to bend Clarisse over in the bathroom and fuck her brains out when we get home. I’ll watch the boys while you do. We’ll tell them you’re in the shower.”

  Mac laughed. “Well, that part will be true.”

  They cleaned up in the head and made their way back to the wheelhouse. Clarisse smirked at them. “I take it I’m getting nailed when we get home?”

  Sully and Mac took turns leaning in to kiss her. “Are you complaining, sweetheart?” Sully teased.

  “No, just making sure. It’s not my fault you two are so sexalicious.”

  “Is that a word?” Mac asked.

  “Considering she’s using it to describe us, I won’t question it,” Sully said.

  The men flanked her as she sat there, manning the controls. With the seas still gentle, it was almost akin to driving a car, without having to worry about the direction or size of the waves or how the wind was hitting them.

  Heaven, Mac thought. Absolute heaven.

  Beneath their feet, the engines throbbed, the boat’s heartbeat, gently carrying them back home.

  Seth and Leah

  Sometimes, even a Dom needs to whip himself into shape…

  * * * *

  Crack!

  Seth frowned as he stared at the pristine target hanging from an oak tree in the back yard. He hadn’t meant to crack the whip, simply nail the target.

  A double fail, in other words.

  From the shade of a tree behind him, Leah softly laughed. “You want me to show you how it’s done?”

  “Smart ass.”

  “I’m not the one who hasn’t practiced in over a month.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Be glad I’m not practicing on your ass.”

  “Oooh, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

  “Hmph.” Seth turned back toward the target, a paper napkin hanging from a lower branch, suspended by a clothespin tied to the branch with a piece of string. Yes, he’d gotten out of practice. But they were teaching a class on whip handling next weekend at Venture, and he needed to shape up beforehand.

  He took a deep breath to settle himself, shook out his arms, and tried again.

  This time, he didn’t crack the whip, but he didn’t hit the target, either.

  “Dammit,” he muttered.

  Behind him, he heard Leah get up and walk over. “Would you prefer I showed you what you’re doing wrong, or let you keep getting more frustrated?” In the past five minutes, he hadn’t hit the target once.

  Totally unlike him.

  “What, exactly, are you planning to show me?”

  “You’re too tense, for starters.”

  She held out her hand and he relinquished the singletail to her. Stepping out of her way, he watched as she shook out her arms, then took a couple of gentle underhanded test swings at the target to gauge her distance.

  Then she settled into a relaxed stance before drawing her arm back and flicking the whip forward.

  The napkin target barely moved, but a chunk suddenly disappeared from the bottom of it.

  She took four more swings, each time nipping a little more from the target without cracking the whip, either.

  Turning, she coiled the whip and handed it to him. “You’re too tense, too stiff. You’re stopping your wrist too soon. That’s why it cracked. You didn’t follow through to the target.”

  “You and Kaden always make this look easy. Made.” He went silent as he stared at the kangaroo-hide singletail in his hands.

  She slipped her arms around him. “He’d be so proud of you, you know.”

  Seth nodded. “Of you, too.”

  She smiled up at him. “Well, I’d hope so. Wouldn’t want him coming back and haunting the crap out of us because we weren’t living up to expectations.”

  That finally drew a laugh out of him. He pulled her into his arms, his face buried in her hair. “The ghost of Christmas kinky?”

  “Exactly. Now just relax. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.” She disengaged from their hug and walked over to the tree. There, she removed the target and hung up another napkin in its place. “Maybe I should make you practice on my ass,” she teased as she returned to his side.

  “Not yet. Let me get back into fighting form first. Going after your ass when I’m this out of practice will only make me more nervous.” They’d had midterms, lots of studying for their exams for the college business classes they were taking together. He’d barely had time to think, much less work on other pursuits. Now, with the semester break in full swing, he could relax.

  And work on his swing, so to speak.

  After a couple of test swings to gauge his distance, he threw the singletail for real. This time, he hit the napkin. Not exactly where he’d intended to, because it ripped it free from the clothespin.

  But at least he’d hit it without cracking the whip in the process.

  “There you go,” Leah said, walking over to reset it for him. “See? Just have some patience.”

  After about an hour of practice, where he worked on his aim with his left as well as his right arm, he was done. “Let’s go take a dip in the pool, babe,” he said.

  She smirked. “Giving up for the day, huh?”

  “No, not giving up. Resting. I don’t want to overtax myself.”

  “Uh-huh. Suuure.” She picked up the old napkins as well as others that hadn’t been shredded yet.

  “No, really. Wouldn’t want me to throw something out, would you?”

  She grinned. “Nooo, Sir. We wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  “You could at least try for a seri
ous face.”

  She snorted. “I thought you never wanted me to lie to you?”

  “That’s not lying. That’s preserving what little shreds of dignity I have remaining. You know whips didn’t come naturally to me. Not like a bicycle. You sure you don’t want me to use a paintball gun on you?”

  “No, Sir. No paintball guns. You’ve got this.”

  “Easy for you to say.” He opened the door to the lanai for her, indicating for her to go first.

  “You need to quit being a perfectionist,” she said. “That’s a majority of your problem right there.”

  “I’m not a perfectionist.”

  “You are. You want to do things exactly right when they don’t need to be exactly right.”

  “Yeah, and it’s your ass on the line. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” She set everything on the lanai table and pulled her T-shirt up and off over her head. She didn’t have a bra on. The only reason she had clothes on at all was they’d been out in the backyard. “You worry too much sometimes.”

  “It’s my job to worry about you.”

  “It’s your job to take care of me,” she said as she kicked off her shorts. “It’s not your job to incessantly worry about me in ways that only serve to waste your time and energy.” Having said that, she jumped into the deep end of the pool, surfacing only a moment later and treading water. “You coming in?”

  He stripped off his T-shirt and shorts and left them on top of her clothes before he cannonballed into the water. He broke the surface shaking his head and splashing water everywhere, making her giggle.

  Before she could get away, he reached out and snagged her arm, dragging her close and kissing her. “If I say it’s my job to worry about you, I’ll worry about you.”

  With her arms draped around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist, it didn’t take long for Seth’s cock to harden in the comfortably warm water.

  “Would you like to discuss this, or fuck my brains out, Sir?”

  “Trick question, love.” He reached between them, grabbed his cock, and got it lined up with the entrance to her pussy. She needed no further encouragement and eagerly impaled herself on it.

  In the early days after Kaden had made his confession about their BDSM dynamic and his terminal cancer diagnosis, Seth had wondered how the hell he’d be able to take care of Leah. Keep her alive.

  Hell, keep himself alive.

  Now that they were a couple years past losing Kaden, they had settled into their own routine.

  Still, sometimes those doubts returned, rising to the surface as they did today.

  What would Kaden do?

  Kaden would keep on keeping on the way he always had. Seth knew that was exactly what he needed to do, too. But doing it was another matter entirely than knowing he had to do it.

  Trying to shelve the matter until after he’d finished making love to Leah, Seth kissed her, drowning out the mental cacophony threatening to distract him. At least when making love to her, all was right in his world. He eased them toward the shallow end of the pool so he could get his footing and properly fuck her.

  “Come on, baby,” he said. “Don’t hold out on me. Give me one.”

  She bit down on his shoulder as a familiar cry escaped her.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He sped up, catching up, finishing with her as one last gasp filled his ears and heart with the sound of her climaxing.

  Sinking into the water until just their heads were exposed, he kissed her. “Trying to distract me with pool sex won’t change the fact that I need to get back into training with a whip,” he said.

  She giggled. “No, but it did distract you for a few minutes.”

  “Of course it did. It always does.”

  * * * *

  The next afternoon he was out in the backyard again. This time, it wasn’t just Leah watching him practice, but their friend Tony as well.

  “She’s right,” Tony said. “You’re tensing up on the backswing. You’re overthinking it.” He stepped in and reached for the whip.

  Seth thought Tony was going to take the whip, but instead he grabbed Seth’s hand around the whip and drew his arm back. “See? Like that. You’re coming too far past your centerline on the backswing and throwing it at an angle. Try it underhanded first a few times and get your confidence back.”

  He did, nearly nailing himself in the nuts on the backswing.

  Leah giggled. “You’re too tense.”

  “Someone’s cruising for a week’s worth of tease and denial,” Seth shot back.

  “Did you think about using a shorter one to practice with?” Tony asked.

  “This is only a six-footer.”

  “You might want to get your confidence back with a three-footer,” Tony said. “Once you’re consistent with a target, step up again.”

  “You guys make this shit look easy and it’s not.”

  He remembered the first time Kaden and Leah had worked with him with the whips.

  They’d both made it look ridiculously easy. Which was kind of the point, because it took a hella lot of practice to get to the point where it did look easy and not like a drunk idiot was throwing it.

  “I’ve seen you make it look easy, too,” Tony told him. “What’s so different now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I do,” Leah said.

  The men turned to her.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve taught one of these classes,” she said. “The other day, he was watching videos of Kaden practicing. Now he’s feeling like he’s not up to snuff.”

  Seth’s face heated, but he didn’t respond.

  Tony stared at him. “Well?”

  “Hey, Kaden was a lot better at this shit than I am. He was a lot better at most things, if you didn’t notice.”

  Leah stood and walked over to him, silencing him with a kiss. “No one expects you to be Kaden except you,” she softly said. “Least of all him. He told you to find your own way. Stop picturing Kaden in your head every time you throw that whip and start focusing on what the whip actually feels like in your hand.”

  He really didn’t want to admit she was right.

  But she was right.

  Too bad it took that damn long to click in his brain, and that it took her to point it out to him.

  She pointed at the target.

  Seth turned. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to picture what it felt like once he’d started getting the hang of throwing a whip.

  Yes, he had been trying to imitate Kaden in the videos, now that he thought about it. He’d tried to imitate his friend’s form, even though his friend had been built differently than him and had been an expert with a whip for years.

  Opening his eyes, he focused on the feel of the whip, the plaited leather, the shot-weighted handle, the length of it. He held out his left hand, pointing it at the target the way he used to do when he was first learning, but it felt right even if it was technically a step back.

  This time, when he threw, he did it gently, easily. Carefully. Maybe not the best throw, or the snazziest one, but the napkin danced a little on the clothespin as the popper made contact with it.

  “There you go!” Leah said, slapping him on the back. “Do that. And keep doing that.”

  She and Tony stepped out of the way while he tried again. And again.

  And again.

  An hour later, both his arms were sore, but he was finally thinking maybe he’d gotten his mojo back.

  “Better?” Tony asked him..

  “Yeah. Thanks for coming by.”

  “Hey, no problem. Shay’s up in Bradenton covering an elementary school art festival or something. I really didn’t feel like going, so you gave me a perfect excuse to bail.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  Once they were alone again and back in the house, Leah stepped up behind him and encircled his waist with her arms. “Thank You, Sir.”

  “For what?”

>   “For not giving up. For trying even though you were frustrated. And for listening to us when we told you what we thought was wrong.”

  “Ah, you thank me now. Just wait until I’m using that on you at the club next weekend.”

  She giggled. “I’ll still be thanking You then, Sir.”

  Mike and Jenny

  What do you know? Old dogs can be taught new tricks…

  * * * *

  Mike’s dice softly clicked together as he rolled them into the felt-lined tray he used. “Eighteen…” He counted in his head. “Twelve modifier. Thirty.”

  “Dammit,” Axel, their DM muttered. “You pick the lock.” Next to him, his phone went off, the wheezing, gasping sound of the TARDIS taking off. “Aaaand that’s the night, kiddos. I have to get home.” He closed his notebook and started gathering his things.

  Mike’s friend, Rusty, leaned back in his chair. “You sure you don’t want to hold game night somewhere else for a while? I kind of feel like we’re mooching off you guys.”

  Rusty’s wife, Eliza, smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “You aren’t volunteering me, barbarian. Not until someone gets that hole in the drywall patched where Booger tried to eat her way through to the guest bathroom three weeks ago.”

  Booger was their nickname for Boo, their fifty-pound Old English bulldog.

  Which apparently had developed a sudden craving for drywall.

  Rusty looked a little abashed. “I said I’d get to it,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, well, no guests until you do. If you wait too much longer, I’m going to yank your gaming privileges until it’s fixed.”

  Rusty pouted. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  Jenny, Mike’s wife, laughed from where she stood in the kitchen doorway. “I bet she would,” she said.

  “Kailey’s home on break from school,” Eliza said. “She has to use our bathroom because where the hole is, you can see right through to the toilet.”

  “Why did Boo try to chew through the drywall?” Mike asked.